


Vessel

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Boypussy, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Mpreg, Parent/Child Incest, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burt is obsessed with impregnating Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt's door is just barely ajar, a thin strip of dark, the light’s off inside.

Burt pauses outside. He drops his head, listening for a moment, then puts his hand on the door and pushes. The bar of light from the hall widens in an angular wedge, across the carpet, across the far wall, across Kurt's bed.

Burt can see his son's head where it lies dark on the pillow.

He rests his hand on the doorframe.

“Dad?” Kurt’s voice come softly from the bed.

Burt goes in, breathing the sweet smell that’s always here, in Kurt’s room.

Kurt turns over in bed, sits up, watching as Burt puts the lamp on.

“Were you asleep?” He cups his hand to Kurt’s cheek.

~~~

Burt undresses him. He pulls the soft shirt off over his head, and smoothes Kurt’s hair back before he stands. He takes Kurt’s underwear down, touching with his hands, all down his legs as he goes, feeling the shape of Kurt’s knees, his calves, his ankles.

Kurt stares up at him as he withdraws, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his jeans, the metal on buckle clinking. Burt’s eyes move along his son's naked body, lingering over the milky, long lines of him.

“Lie back,” he says, and Kurt does it.

~~~

He slides his fingers into Kurt’s ass crack, and Kurt lets out a thick breath against the pillow. Burt strokes over his anus, lower, sliding between the hot folds of flesh. His fingers still at the first touch. Kurt's pussy is wet, hot and slippery around the entrance of his vagina.

"Oh...my little boy," he murmurs. "You wet already, baby?" 

He presses a kiss to Kurt's shoulder blade. He moves his fingers gently around the outside of Kurt's vagina, wetting his fingertips, letting Kurt get used to the touch. Kurt murmurs something.

“What?” he says, but Kurt doesn’t speak again. He splays his legs wider.

~~~

Kurt’s red little wrinkled asshole twitches as Burt holds his ass cheeks open. His pussy lips, pink, swollen, glisten in the weak light.

Burt lets out a shaky breath as he rests his fat cock between Kurt's open cheeks, ripe pale globes that look so good in his hands, so good pillowing his dick.

He slides the head of his cock slowly back and forth, teasingly, guides the head down to dip between Kurt's pussy lips, slicking the red bulb of his cock. He takes himself in hand and lines the head up against Kurt's vagina.

Kurt leans up a little, twisting his neck to look back at him, one dark eye over the curve of his shoulder.

"Here it comes, sweetheart." Burt strokes a hand up his thigh.

He starts to push in, the muscle at Kurt's entrance tight, unyielding at first. Kurt gasps, pushing up onto his elbows, then moans high and trembling as the head of Burt's penis breaches him.

"That's it," Burt grunts, going carefully, one hand on the shaft of his cock, one hand on Kurt's upper thigh, gripping right under the soft flesh of his ass, holding his open, watching the stretch of Kurt's pussy around his cock. "Yeah, take that for me, baby," Burt says through his teeth.

Kurt's gasping shallow little hitching breaths, crying out softly every now and then as Burt slowly feeds his swollen cock into his body.

"D-Daddy," he whimpers, his spine shifting, muscles in his buttocks and thighs clenching against the invasion. Burt can see the way his anus is jumping and gripping, the rhythm the same as like the hot clench around Burt's penis.

"It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay in a second. You're just so...fucking tight..." Burt grits out.

Kurt pants, dropping his head, and Burt pushes, slow but steady, inch by inch.

“That’s it…that’s it…”

Kurt mewls as Burt finally, finally, bottoms out, the thick girth of his cock forced deep into Kurt's pussy, the head of his cock buried in the hot, wet clutch of his body.

Burt groans, low and triumphant.

"Been thinking about this...all day," he says, easing his cock back just a little way, pushing back in, shifting his hips so he can get his penis in as deep as possible, his ballsack rubbing against the wet, parted lips of Kurt's pussy.

"This tight...little cunt..." Burt groans, his voice uneven.

"Daddy," Kurt whimpers.

"Yeah. That’s…a real man's cock." Burt screws up his face, licking his lips, gathering his self-control. "You like that big dick?" He pulls out further, thrusts slowly back home into the delicious grasp of his son’s cunt. Kurt grasps at the bed sheets, pulling them crumbled under his arms, a wavering cry escaping him as Burt pulls back again, thrusts again, drives the length of his penis into him. "That's not a boy's dick."

Burt forces himself to go slower, but he can’t stop moving now, fucking his cock slow into Kurt, never drawing out far, incapable of pulling out, leaving the heat of Kurt’s body.

Kurt’s making tiny little pained cries. He lifts one leg, at the knee, so his heel knocks Burt’s elbow, then spreads his legs wider to accommodate him, arching his ass up on the pillow that’s under his hips, presenting his pussy for fucking. Burt loves the sight of his penis sinking in, over and over, the stretch of Kurt's vagina around it, yielding to it, taking it into his body.

Burt shifts his stance on his knees, changing angle, holding Kurt's ass cheeks open so he can look down and watch, slotting his penis into him at a brisker pace, falling into a new rhythm, moaning at the suction of Kurt’s pussy around him, like a hungry throat trying to swallow him down.

"How’s that dick feel, baby?" Burt pants. "You like how that big dick feels inside you?"

"Daddy," Kurt whimpers, his body jolting with Burt’s thrusts. "Mmm, Daddy."

"Oh yeah, baby. So good." Burt squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, he has to. "So good," he moans, then he has to look again, can't keep himself from looking. He slaps Kurt’s buttock lightly as he watches the thick length of his cock ride in and out, the edges of Kurt’s pussy pink and shining, drawing in and out with his thrusts.

"You take that dick so good for me. Doesn't feel like this with him, does it? Your little boy?" His voice has fallen to a rough whisper, and he's started slapping into Kurt, the wet noise of flesh sliding noisy in the little bedroom, his balls landing up against Kurt, a steady slap-slap-slap that mingles with Kurt's hitching moans, taking Burt to the brink.

"Fuck, baby," Burt gasps, a sweat breaking out across his brow, his hands gripping Kurt's flesh, pinning him down and holding him open as his cock determinedly claims his pussy. "Ah, fuck. Here it comes."

He falls against Kurt's back, plunging his cock in and seating himself deep as orgasm seizes him, his cock starting to pulse. Burt groans deep in his chest, easing his cock very slightly back and forth, the head of his cock caressed and surrounded on all sides by Kurt's deliciously hot, wet, gripping insides. He feels utterly potent, spurt after spurt of his come spilling deep in his son's willing, ripe body. He groans, a grumbling, sated noise, with each breath, shameless as a dog, rocking his hips, letting his fat cock pulse and pulse inside of Kurt.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Sweetest fuckin pussy…" He chuckles, low and breathless, stroking his hand up Kurt's side, down again, down his hip, cupping at his ass cheek. "Can you feel it?" he breathes. "You feel all that come inside you?" He shifts his cock inside Kurt and Kurt moans under him. "Mm. Been saving that up for you all week." He slides his hand under Kurt's pelvis, splaying his hand against the soft swell of Kurt's stomach. He nibbles at the nape of Kurt's neck, leaning up to nuzzle at his ear. "Mm. I want a baby in that belly."

" _Dad_ ," Kurt huffs, petulant, moving restless and restricted under Burt's weight.

"I want that belly…" Burt speaks deliberately "big…and round…" He kisses Kurt’s neck.

He can hear the change in Kurt’s breathing.

~~~

He teases the pointed tip of the plug between Kurt's pussy lips, enjoying the movement on the pink little flaps of skin, glistening, then he angles the tip of the plug lower, to the entrance of his vagina.

A thin dribble of come is already starting to trickle from inside.

"Here we go, baby." He eases the plug in. Kurt puts his head back, moaning as the cone of the plug stretches his pussy again.

"That’s a good boy," Burt murmurs.

The plug sinks in, Kurt panting heavily as the widest part of the plug pushes into his vagina and he's made to take it, submit to it. Burt eases it in snug, the rest of the way, so there’s just the grip at the base visible, black rubber, alien and artificial, the head protruding from between the folds of sweet pink flesh.

"If I could keep you with me," Burt breathes, "all day. Sit you on my cock all day long. Fuck." And he rubs his fingertips slowly back and forth over the base of the plug, wiggling it gently. Kurt whimpers. His legs are stretched wide, his pussy totally exposed to his father’s ministrations. Burt strokes his fingers lightly over Kurt's pussy lips, spreading them, as lightly as if they were the wings of a butterfly, then he circles the tip of his middle finger over Kurt’s glistening little clit. Kurt's legs flex, try to close, his pussy clenching involuntarily around the plug.

"You keep that come nice and hot," he says. "Sleep with it in your belly."

He tucks his son up for sleep, kissing the palms of his hands and stroking his hair again, kissing his mouth once.

"Sleep now, sweetheart."

~~~

Burt comes back to Kurt's room later, hours later, after lying awake in his own bed, looking at the ceiling, his cock stirring, hearing Kurt’s voice in the silence, those hitching little helpless moans, closing his eyes and seeing his son’s tight little pussy stretched around the plunging shaft of his cock. He keeps imagining Kurt's belly, swollen, Kurt's delicate hands framing his belly, so ripe and full.

He creeps back to Kurt’s room. The boy’s curled up, his hands cradled together on the pillow by his cheek almost like in prayer.

Burt sits on the side of the bed and draws the covers down from Kurt’s naked shoulders. Kurt mumbles sleepily. Burt reaches down under the duvet, his son’s body warm, slack and trusting. Kurt comes awake as Burt takes the covers off him, climbs onto the bed and lays his body out close, pressed up against his back.

"Daddy?" he whispers. Burt strokes his thumb across Kurt's mouth, over and over, feeling how petal-soft the skin is.

"Need that cunt, baby," he says, his breath shaking slightly as it leaves him. "Let me have that cunt again. Need my prick in your hot little cunt –" He’s talking like he’s in a dream, he knows it, but he feels feverish like it’s a dream, he’s moving his hands all over Kurt’s body, stroking up and down his ribs, his stomach, his shoulders and arms, rubbing greedily at his public mound.

"Okay," Kurt whispers, arching against him.

"Yeah, baby? Want to fill you up." Burt’s got his fingers between Kurt’s legs, drawing on the hood of his clit. "I want you…coated with me, inside. Going to fuck that pussy until you’re full of me. You’re going to get belly ache with it."

"God - Dad -" Kurt grunts into his pillow, his voice wavering, perhaps with incredulous amusement.

"Think I’m kidding?" Burt nudges his cock between Kurt’s ass cheeks, keeping his hand around the front of him, gently working his clit. "Think your old man’s not good for it?" He reaches for the plug, pushing at the base. "Huh?"

"N-No, Daddy," Kurt gasps, tipping his head back.

Burt turns Kurt to lie on his back. He takes hold of the plug and pulls on it. Kurt draws his legs up, his knees trying to come together, defensively. Burt pushes the plug into his body, feeling Kurt's pussy grip at it, and Kurt makes a wet sound, trying to sit up, jerkily, before lying back, open-mouthed, wide eyes fixed on his father’s face.

Burt eases the plug out and Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back as the thickest part is drawn from him. Burt takes a moment to admire the dark shape of Kurt’s vagina, empty in the wake of the plug, clutching at nothing. He strokes the tip of the plug, shiny with Kurt’s pussy juices and Burt’s own come, over the plump, soft lips of Kurt's pussy.

He can feel Kurt's sleepy eyes on him, looking as Burt looks. 

Burt leans up and traces the tip of the plug around one of Kurt's nipples, sliding it around the stiff little bud, then lifts the plug up to Kurt's mouth.

Kurt stares, but he parts his lips obediently, opening his mouth, just like he yields to anything Burt asks of him. Burt's breath hitches as he pushes the plug gently between Kurt's lips. Kurt suckles the plug, not taking very much into his mouth, but moving his tongue around the tip, tasting, his lips fat and red around it.

"Such a good boy," Burt murmurs reverently.

~~~

"One more, baby," he grunts, lining his cock head up with Kurt's stretched hole. "Aw, Jesus. You’re so wet, baby." He hooks Kurt's legs under the back of his knees, bending them, splaying them so he’s defenseless, his pussy spread before his father's fat cock. Burt lines his cock up, pushes in, and it’s easier going, the way eased by his earlier ejaculation and Kurt’s pussy stretched and ready. He watches Kurt's mouth stretch in response to being filled again, his chest filling and emptying fitfully as Burt sinks his cock into him.

"So perfect," Burt groans. "Take my dick so perfect. Made to take that dick."

Kurt’s lips move restlessly, one moment forming a loose, black _O_ , the next, coming together around his tongue, and he licks his lips over and over so they glisten. His brow is tense with effort, his legs bent and spread for his father, his pussy totally at the mercy of Burt's determined cock, which pistons steady and unstoppable as a pumpjack, sinking deep, burying itself in his body, forcing high shaky whines from Kurt’s throat with each thrust home. Burt grunts thick sounds of pleasure in answer, Kurt’s pussy utter bliss gripping and squeezing his aching fat cock like nothing else.

"Oh, God," Burt pants, bracing himself on his elbows, letting Kurt’s legs fall either side of him, so he could lean over Kurt, their faces close, so he can see every tiny little shift and reaction on those delicate features.

Kurt's slender fingers clutch at Burt’s shoulders, Kurt's legs jolting and splaying with every firm snap of Burt's hips.

"Do you want that come, baby?" Burt says. "Fuck, your pussy’s so hot for it. Such a hungry pussy. Swallowing my dick _up_. So fucking greedy for it. Want that milk from your Daddy so bad."

Kurt mewls against his father's lips as Burt crushes a kiss to his mouth, pushing his tongue inside him, fucking his mouth, Kurt’s slack mouth accepting it, just as his slippery little pussy gives in over and over to Burt’s penis.

"You going to have my baby?" Burt pants mindlessly, "Huh? Belly’s going to be fat with it. And Daddy’s going to fuck you while you get big. You’re going to be so full with that baby." 

Burt’s losing control, the roll of his hips growing frantic, the bed frame creaking and Kurt crying out as Burt pounds his dick into his pussy, like he’s riding in the derby, his penis starting to twitch in the tight seizing channel Kurt’s body.

"Daddy – oh, Daddy – " Kurt whimpers.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Burt pants, "here it fucking comes. Oh fuck. Oh baby–"

Burt’s legs scramble and flex, feet sliding on the sheets as he starts to come, his cock sunk in deep, throbbing, spilling wet inside his son, balls pressed up against him, his whole body clutching Kurt possessively to him. Kurt is limp under him, his fingers splaying weakly on his father’s back, soft little animal noises issuing from his mouth, eyelids fluttering as he feels Burt’s come pulse hot inside him for the second time that night.

~~~

Kurt's just had a bath and he's got his towel around him still. He's leaning against the desk, leaning forward on his hands, his feet planted wide. He tips his head back every so often and Burt, standing behind him, kisses his damp neck and shoulder, his hand between his legs, his fingers inside him.

"He'll be here soon," Kurt says. His eyes are closed. He puckers his lips and then wets them with a delicate flick of his tongue.

"What are you going to wear?" Burt pushes his fingers up deeper and Kurt gasps. "You going to get the door like this?" The edge of the towel slips out from where Kurt's had it tucked under his armpit and it falls part-way down his back. Burt puts his lips to the knob of bone at the base of his son's neck and sucks, fucks his pussy slowly with two thick fingers, pulling out, pushing in, up to his knuckles, fingers squeezed in the hot clench of Kurt's body.

"I should get dressed." Kurt reaches back and pushes his father's arm away. He gathers the towel around his hips and turns, his hand going up to fuss with his hair. "I need to get ready. Move while I get ready."

Burt chuckles and sucks on his fingers, goes and sits down on Kurt's bed and watches his son as he dresses.

~~~

The doorbell rings while Kurt's buttoning his slacks.

"He's early," Burt says. He gets up.

Kurt leans down in front of the mirror and quickly fluffs his hair, smoothes his fingers along his eyebrows.

"You look fine." Burt pats his ass. "Just remember." He points significantly to the small chest of drawers by the bedside. 

"Dad, I will." Kurt's shifting restlessly. He wants to go downstairs.

"And you know I'll be right here," Burt says.

"I know."

"Alright." He takes Kurt by the shoulders and looks him up and down a final time. He shakes his head. "I hope that boy knows how lucky he is." 

Kurt wriggles out of his grasp. "He's waiting." He flashes Burt a flustered little smile over his shoulder as he hurries out.

Burt stands in the middle of the bedroom. He listens as Kurt goes down the stairs. He listens as the front door opens. He hears the excited lift of Kurt's voice as he greets the boy waiting there.

~~~

By the time they come upstairs, Burt is sitting on the stool behind the door of the closet. The light through the slats makes pale stripes on his jeans. He breathes quietly, through his nose, and watches Kurt come into the bedroom. The boy follows behind him. His appearance throws Burt a little. He must have come straight from gym or sports practice: sneakers and sweat pants and a striped navy and white rugby shirt with his school crest on the breast pocket.

"It's kind of a mess," Kurt says, bending quickly to pick his towel up off the floor.

"Yeah, it's a real disaster zone," the boy laughs.

Kurt stands so his back is to the closet. Burt can tell he's nervous, aroused and hiding it, intensely aware of Burt's presence in the room where the boy is oblivious.

"Geez, I probably stink," the boy says, looking down at himself. "Kind of wishing I showered before I left." He reaches for Kurt's hand after a moment's hesitation, almost shy. "I couldn't wait to see you. I really missed you."

Burt can see the boy's hands go to Kurt's waist. He feels himself tensing and he inhales and exhales and forces himself to relax, his eyes tracking the movement of Kurt's body, the slight sway of his slender hips under the boy's hands.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," Kurt says.

"Hey, I get it, it's a big change." The boy puts his arms around Kurt. "This guy I was talking to yesterday in Debate was homeschooled for a year before he came to Dalton. He says it's a big adjustment."

Kurt hums softly.

"Do you like it?" the boys says. "I bet anything's better than McKinley, right?"

"I like being at home."

The boy looks about the room again. "You're not getting too lonely?"

"No." Kurt draws the boy along by the hand. "Not really." They sit together on the end of the bed, Kurt with his body turned towards the boy. "I've got my Dad."

"Yeah, but…" The boy shakes his head. "I don't know. I still can't believe they just let that guy off with a warning. He should have been the one who had to leave McKinley, not you."

Kurt puts his head on the boy's shoulder and the boy deflates.

"Sorry. You're probably sick of talking about it."

"It's sweet that you care," Kurt murmurs.

"Of course I care." The boy turns his shoulders so that Kurt has to lift his head. He looks at Kurt earnestly. "You know you can talk to me?"

Kurt strokes the boy's lips with his fingers. The look on Kurt's face is soft, dreamy, and it's like he draws the boy into a trance with his look. The boy is transfixed, his body is still, his eyes dark and wide, his lips slightly parted as he stares.

"So" The boy clears his throat, blinks himself out of it. "So did your Dad say anything about you going to a different school?"

"My Dad likes me here."

"Obviously he wants you to be safe and everything, yeah, but–"

"Do you want to do something?" Kurt interrupts. 

The boy opens his mouth, surprised, takes too long answering. Kurt kisses him.

"Um." The boy pulls away after a long moment. "Wow."

"So?" Kurt lays his hand on the boy's thigh.

"Uh. Okay. I just" The boy stammers "I I thought maybe…" He looks to the doorway like he expects someone to be standing there. He looks back at Kurt. "Don't you think we've been…moving kind of fast?"

"I don't know." Kurt gives the boy's thigh a slow squeeze. "I thought you said you missed me?"

"I did," the boy says at once, "God, I really, I did. I just…you're going through so much right now. I feel like…do you not worry about us going too fast with…with everything?"

Kurt's eyes flicker towards the closet. Burt shakes his head very slightly, even though Kurt can't see him.

Kurt recovers. He leans in and puts his lips to the boy's ear and murmurs to him and creeps his fingers up his thigh.

"I do want to," the boy protests quietly.

Kurt speaks softly in his ear some more and touches the boy between his legs.

"Yeah, I" The boy lets out an unsteady breath. "I do, I just" He turns and Kurt kisses his lips and palms his cock and the boy grunts softly and gives into it, tilting his head for more kisses, letting Kurt lead everything.

Burt keeps his hands resting flat on his knees as he watches them. He likes the look of Kurt's pale hand rubbing the bulge of the boy's cock. He likes the greediness of Kurt's red lips, the pink slide of tongue as he enjoys the boy's mouth.

"When's your Dad home?" the boy says as Kurt slides his hand under the waistband of his pants. His face goes tense and then slack as Kurt touches him. He lays back on his elbow reticently.

"We'll just be quick," Kurt says. He pulls his hand out and starts to take the boy's pants down his hips. He wants to let Burt see, he's aware of him watching, always.

The boy's cock is pink, flushed, young and hearty and eager. Kurt wraps his hand around the base and holds it up, turning his head ever so slightly towards the closet, his eyelids sleepy, lips pushed out in a considering little pout.

The boy starts to sit up and starts to speak. All the fight goes out of him the instant Kurt dips his head and puts his mouth on his cock.

"Did you come here to fuck me?" Kurt says.

"What? No, I"

Kurt slides the boy's cock against his wet lips, smearing his lips. The boy breathes roughly. He doesn't try to speak again. He's got his one hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Do you think about me?" Kurt says.

"Yes," the boy says helplessly.

Kurt kisses the tip of his cock and then bathes the whole slippery pink bulb with his tongue. "What about me?"

The boy's hand drops to his side then goes back to Kurt's shoulder, then slides up Kurt's neck into his hair.

"Fuck. Kurt."

"Mm," Kurt sighs. He presses another kiss to the boy's slit and his lips come away glossy with pre-come. He straightens, licks his lips and looks down at the boy's face, stroking his cock with a loose pump and twist of his fist.

He pushes the boy's pants further down his legs and the boy opens his legs wider, giving Burt a view of his balls and then Kurt's fingers stroking, teasing, carefully exploring the weight and shape of his balls.

Burt doesn't touch himself, it's good enough watching.

The boy sits up while Kurt undresses, he watches Kurt stand and take down his slacks and pull his top off over his head. Kurt stands in his underwear and socks. He bends to take off his socks, the elastic on the underwear riding up the globes of his ass.

The boy reaches for his hips and tries to bring him closer, but Kurt goes around the bed to the chest of drawers and pulls open the top drawer.

"Kurt, I don't know" the boy says "I. Don't you think we should" and Kurt turns, tearing the wrapper on a condom, reaching back to put the wrapper on top of the chest of drawers. The ring of clear rubber is wet between his fingers. Burt picked out a box of the lubricated kind for this especially. 

Burt looks at boy's cock, swollen, waiting and biddable, lying fat on the boy's belly like a dog waiting. He thinks about that cock, that idiot meat that doesn't know how to be ashamed of itself, pushing its way into Kurt's pussy, burying itself inside and pulsing seed into him, unloading. His hands clench into fists on his knees.

"Are you sure – your Dad won't be back"

"Don't worry." Kurt kneels half over the boy and takes his cock in his hand and rolls the condom onto it, his hands expert and quick. Burt tells himself to remember to talk to Kurt about that. He'll give too much away if he's not careful. The boy thinks Kurt was a virgin the last time they did this.

Kurt takes off his underwear and climbs on the boy again, pushing him to lie back, starts to grind his hips slowly, rubbing the boy's cock with his pussy. The boy's pants are around his ankles. His plain gym sneakers poke out from under the crumple of his pants. The muscles in his legs flex and quiver. There's some hair on him, a sparse trail of dark hair down his belly, around the base of his cock. He's just sixteen. His body has that look of still growing into itself.

"You've only done this with me," Kurt says.

"What?"

"You haven't done this with anyone else."

"Of course I haven't," the boy says, sounding winded and bewildered.

Kurt leans down, still shifting his hips, and Burt's mouth fills with saliva as he gazes at his ass, his asshole and his rosy-pink pussy coming into view as Kurt's ass cheeks open, as he lays over the boy and kisses him.

The boy's balls and the root of his cock look flushed and full, more than ready, swollen and waiting, the white ring of the condom near the base, the shaft trapped in the thin sheath of latex. Kurt presses and rubs his pussy against the boy's cock, a tease that's got to be pushing the boy to his limits. Burt knows how hot that pussy feels.

"I want to be the only one," Kurt says.

"You are," the boy gasps.

Kurt takes his cock and sits up and slides the head with the wrinkled tip of the condom back and forth through the folds of his vulva and then puts it to his vagina and starts to sit. His tight pussy takes the boy's cock slowly and Kurt moans quietly as he lowers himself. He sinks down on him, swallows him to the root, and then settles himself on the boy's hips, wriggling gently as he settles in, his movements drawing the boy's sack up, balls round and ripe, resting under Kurt's ass, the soft skin of the sack pulled gently with Kurt's every move.

"Mmm," Kurt breathes. He lifts his pussy. He sinks onto the boy's cock. He fucks himself slowly on it. "Feels so good."

The boy's hands grip Kurt's legs. Burt can hear he's breathing like a racehorse.

Kurt starts rocking on top of him, working himself on the boy's cock, Burt can see everything, Kurt's gorgeous little pussy stretched around the boy's cock, a decent-sized cock, a good thickness, Burt can tell by how Kurt's riding it he's enjoying the stretch, the hot length of it sheathed inside him, tip to root. The condom and Kurt's pussy are slippery and glistening.

"Does that feel good," Kurt says, "Blaine?"

" _Yes_ ," the boy chokes.

"Have you been thinking about this?" Kurt coaxes, his voice sweet, just a little uneven as he rocks in the boy's lap. 

The boy shudders, thigh muscles tensing, his hips jerking.

"Did you think about my pussy?"

"Oh, fuck," the boy whispers. He clutches Kurt's hips.

"You like that," Kurt says, undulating, fucking his cock slow. "Mmm, you like that, don't you?"

"Kurt." The boy's begging.

"Come on," Kurt whispers. "It's okay, come on."

The boy grabs Kurt's ass cheeks suddenly in both hands, spreads him, holds him there, his hips coming alive, he drives his cock up into Kurt's pussy frantically, balls slapping up against Kurt's body. Burt can hear the wet noise of Kurt's pussy forced to accommodate the boy's penis.

"Oh," Kurt whimpers, arching his spine, spreading his legs wider to try and give the boy more. "Oh yeah."

The boy grunts, his legs struggling to open wider with his pants round his ankles. He's barely drawing his cock out far enough to fuck Kurt, he's so far gone, the sweet suction of Kurt's pussy around his cock making him stupid.

"Yeah," Kurt gasps, "Come on –" 

The boy starts to climax, all at once, predictably, twisting underneath Kurt like a bronco, holding Kurt roughly in place while he staggers into orgasm.

"No," Kurt moans, "Wait" he tries to keep riding the boy but the boy's beyond reasoning with, holding him rigidly, the spasm of his pelvis making the mattress creak, his fingers squeezing Kurt's ass cheeks, spreading him just right to give Burt a long, naked look at Kurt's anus and his pussy, so slick and used, stretched and full of a cock selfish and forceful like only a young cock in the midst of ejaculation can be.

Burt's hand is mostly steady as he reaches down to pick up the cordless phone next to his foot. He barely looks down as he keys in the number of Kurt's cell phone.

The boy's hands are just loosening, his body is just relaxing back into the mattress, wrung out, still twitching, when Kurt's ringtone chimes from the bedside table.

Kurt's back straightens up sharply and he almost turns his head to look back at the closet, but he catches himself and draws away, pulling off the boy's cock unceremoniously, it falls spent and damp against the boy's hipbone. Kurt hurries to answer his phone. Burt disconnects the call just as Kurt gets his phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he says breathlessly, standing naked by the bed. He pretends to listen, his arm wrapped around himself. "Yeah, Dad, okay." He pauses again. "Yeah, see you soon."

He drops the phone on the bed and scrambles to start picking his clothes up off the floor.

"You have to go, my Dad's almost home!"

"Oh," the boy says dazedly. "Oh shit. Okay."

"Now." Kurt tugs his shirt on over his head. "He doesn't know you're here."

The boy starts to clumsily pull his pants up, stops to take the condom off. His coordination is gone, battered out of him. He does a bad job trying to get the condom off. He's completely inexperienced with it, trying to rush. He doesn't pinch it properly at the tip where it's full and milky with come and the rubber snaps as he pulls it off and come dribbles out the end of the condom, onto his penis and some on his thigh. He swears.

"Blaine, you have to –"

"Sorry, I –"

"It doesn't matter, just –"

The boy yanks up his pants one-handed and stands up on wobbly legs, trying to tie the slippery condom off, but Kurt takes it from him and pushes him towards the door.

"You can't let him see you."

"Right." The boy gets to the doorway, looks back. "So – bye," he says uncertainly.

" _Go,_ " Kurt says, pretending to search for his underwear.

"Okay. I-I'll call you." 

The boy's feet thump down the corridor and down the stairs.

Burt doesn't even wait until he hears him reach the front door.

He lurches off his stool, shoves the door of the closet open, heedless as it bangs against the wall, Kurt's already waiting, backing up towards the bed, his eyes gone huge, his face flushed, lips very red and parted as he stares at his father coming to him.

"Daddy –" he whimpers, then Burt's grabbing him roughly, fingers fisted in his hair, pushing his head back and crushing their mouths together.

"Take it off," Burt says between his teeth, running his hands all over Kurt's body, not being gentle about it. Kurt struggles out of the shirt he's pulled on and Burt holds him naked against him as they hear the sound of a car starting up in the drive.

"He hurt you?" Burt grunts.

Kurt tips his head back, breathing fast, his hair is spilt across his forehead. Burt holds him by his arms. Kurt blinks up at him, slow, like he's drunk, his head tilting a little, loose on his neck.

"No," Burt says, "you liked that, huh. You liked bouncing on that boy's prick just fine." He pushes Kurt down onto the bed. Kurt falls back, loose-limbed, eyes a little glazed. Burt touches himself through his jeans. He cups his dick and looks down at his son.

Kurt's hands flutter on his belly while he presses his thighs closed. He moves one hand down to hide his slit.

"Oh no," Burt murmurs. "No playing like that." He starts undoing his belt. "I seen how you gave it up. You couldn't give it up fast enough you wanted that dick so bad."

"No," Kurt says. His lips go big as he pushes them out. He rubs his fingers gently against his slit.

"Oh no? You got any idea what you looked like?"

"No," Kurt whispers again. He licks his lips, gazing up at Burt with an almost sleepy look.

Burt shakes his head, his hands taking his cock out his pants.

"Kid never stood a chance," he says under his breath. His penis is heavy in his hand.

Kurt's hips move slightly as he touches himself, fingers squeezed between the gap of his thighs still pressed tight closed.

"Let me see," Burt says. "No more hiding that pussy now. You let Daddy see."

Kurt spreads his legs slowly. He curls his fingers and holds his pussy lips open with light fingertips, the flesh is exquisite, delicate and pink. His vagina is wet, it looks scandalized at itself, it doesn't look like it's just been enthusiastically and roughly used.

"So naughty," Burt says. "So goddamn naughty with that pink little pussy."

He gets on the bed, he starts to lean down and then he stops as he feels something sticky under his palm. He looks. The condom is there, forgotten on the sheets. He picks it up and his fingers are wet at once with the boy's come, still warm. He considers it for a moment, then slips two fingers inside, draws them out coated, slides his fingers one against the other, together and apart, rubs his thumb into it, then looks down to find Kurt watching him with his lips parted.

"See how hard you made him come?" Burt lowers his hand and Kurt's eyelids flutter shut as Burt wipes his fingers over his lips, his chin, his cheeks. He tips the condom, more come dribbling onto his palm, he rubs it against Kurt's mouth, looks in satisfaction at the result as he takes his hand away, Kurt's face wet and smeared, the slime of the boy's ejaculate glistening around his mouth.

Kurt blinks his eyes open. Burt slides his fingers into Kurt's mouth and he closes his eyes again as he sucks them.

"You miss that taste, baby?" Burt says as Kurt's licking his palm clean, pink tongue hot and eager, slippery in a way that makes Burt's cock twitch. "You miss Daddy using your mouth?" Kurt nuzzles at Burt's palm, open-mouthed, wet. "Huh? Or are you sweet on your boy?"

"No, Daddy…" Kurt lies back, spreading his legs, sliding his fingers between his legs entreatingly. "Want you, Daddy."

Burt grunts. "Daddy's gonna give that little pussy exactly what it needs." He lies on top of him, moving his hips to find Kurt's hot little hole with his cock, Kurt's fingers encircling him after a moment, guiding him right to it. "Oh fuck, yeah," Burt sighs as the crown of his dick breaches his son's tight entrance. "Cunt's so tight, baby. Pinching my dick. Jesus." He's panting. He sinks in in one smooth long push and Kurt whines, an injured little _mnh_ as his pussy yields to his father's fat penis.

"Oh yeah. You let Daddy fuck that little cunt. I'll fuck it so good for you, baby." Burt holds his son's hips, pulling him back with him as he straightens up, kneels with his large hands holding the soft flesh of Kurt's thighs splayed, looking down at where Kurt's pussy is stretched pink around his prick, forced to take it, vulva blushing deliciously with the abuse.

Kurt moans softly when Burt is still for too long. He starts trying to undulate his hips.

"That's it, sweetheart," Burt breathes. "Show me how much you want it."

Kurt struggles a little against Burt's hands holding his thighs. He can't move his hips like he wants, but he does his best to work himself on Burt's dick. Burt licks his thumb, brushes Kurt's defenseless pink clit so Kurt jolts and whines and grips around Burt's cock.

"What's that boy going to think when the baby starts growing?" Burt moves his hips, slow. Kurt's body is hot, wet and easing the way for him. "What'll he think then?"

Kurt's eyes are closed, his brows pinched like he doesn't want to hear it. He's sweating at the back of his legs. Burt squeezes and strokes the hot flesh and then settles himself between Kurt's legs, pushing his cock deep, really getting going.

"You're mine. You're going to have Daddy's baby growing in your belly." Burt licks at Kurt's neck. Kurt moans and twists under him, but he's not going anywhere. "You don't want him to know?" Burt laughs breathlessly, snapping his hips, his cock slotting into Kurt's pussy in a brutish rhythm. "He'll know," Burt grunts, pins Kurt with his body, putting his face close enough that he feels Kurt's hot shaky breath from his lips. "You get your Daddy's come, no one else's."

Kurt holds onto his arms, his head thrown back, legs curled around Burt's waist.

"You like how Daddy fucks you, don't you," Burt says, letting his mouth run, the hot wet clench around his pumping dick and the helpless needy sounds his son's making with every thrust destroying any kind of restraint. "You love Daddy's dick. You're going to love how Daddy's baby feels growing inside you." 

Kurt lifts his head, moaning, slides one hand over Burt's scalp, down his neck, pushes at his shoulder, digging in suddenly with blunt fingernails.

"Mm, shit." Burt kisses his mouth. "His prick doesn't feel like Daddy's, does it? Boy doesn't know how to use his prick. He don't even know whose pussy this is. It's _mine_. He gets it because I let him. Only fucking reason." He works his cock in and out of Kurt's pussy relentlessly. "Listen to that." The slippery tight slap of his penis sinking into Kurt's pussy, his balls slapping home, the sounds of flesh utterly animal and shameless. "Pussy's so fucking wet." He nuzzles his face into Kurt's neck. "Mmm, fuck, tell me how much you love Daddy's prick stuffing your pussy, baby."

"I love it," Kurt gasps. Burt can feel Kurt working his hips for it, arching his spine, tipping his pelvis up.

"So fucking hot for it." Burt puts his hands under Kurt's ass, gets his hands full of the soft flesh and _squeezes_ , holds him just how he wants him. "This fucking pussy," he groans. "Jesus Christ."

~~~

He puts a couple of pillows under Kurt when he's through, to keep his pelvis angled up, keep the come from running out.

Kurt's pussy is red and wet, well-fucked. He puts his mouth over it, tenderly. He thinks about his come inside, safe. He makes a wet seal of his mouth over Kurt's clit and Kurt holds his head and he doesn't need much to fall apart.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

He makes Kurt stay on the bed for a good part of the evening. Comes in just before dinner, fucks him again, not bothering to undress, just taking his dick out his fly. He lets Kurt up afterwards and helps him into his silky dressing gown, plugs him up. Then they go downstairs to eat.

"Sit here," Burt says, after, as he's settling in to watch some tv. He pats the couch cushion next to him.

"I was going to go shower." Kurt's hovering at the bottom of the stairs.

Burt just raises an eyebrow. He waits. Kurt doesn't sigh, he's quiet as he comes into the lounge and sits beside him.

They watch some dumb big-budget fantasy movie for a few minutes. They both hear the ringtone on Kurt's cell phone chiming from upstairs.

Burt slips his hand under Kurt's gown, patting his thigh and they keep watching. 

Burt starts feeling frisky again. He can only smile ruefully at himself, because yeah, watching Kurt go at it with the boy sure did something to him.

"You can shower after," Burt murmurs, undoing the tie on Kurt's gown, stroking his jaw and turning his head, kissing him slow.

"I'm tired," Kurt mumbles, drawing back slightly, holding the sides of his gown together.

"I know, baby." Burt strokes his hair soothingly, kisses his neck, sucks the vulnerable, sweet-smelling flesh there.

Burt pushes him gently back so he's lying on the couch cushions, opens his gown, arranges his legs. He strokes his hands up his calves, spreads his knees, strokes down his thighs, looking at his pussy, feels like he'll never be able to get enough of looking at it. His eyes move up Kurt's body. The dressing gown is a deep blue, it looks good open against Kurt's skin. One of Kurt's nipples is covered, the other pink and pale. Burt strokes his nipple through the silk.

He can tell it's uncomfortable for Kurt as he takes the plug out.

"You sore, baby?" he murmurs, opening his pants.

Kurt nods.

"Alright." Burt pulls his cock out. He strokes himself with one hand, pushes his jeans and his underwear down around his knees, shuffling closer. "I'll take it slow." He leans down and rubs the head of his dick against Kurt's pussy, slicking himself, teasing his dick between his pussy lips, loving the look of it, the way the flesh looks, pink and dainty, clinging wet against the bulb of his penis, crowning it, so innocent and so like a seduction at the same time.

Kurt lies still, his head turned a little away as Burt lines himself up. He pushes his face against the cushions and makes a small noise of discomfort as Burt eases his way in.

"I know, baby," Burt whispers, shuddering with pleasure. "Poor baby," he groans quietly against Kurt's ear, lying over him, braced on his elbows. "Poor little pussy's had a lot of cock today." He sucks gently on Kurt's earlobe as he starts slowly working his dick in and out of him. "But Daddy's got some more for you. Let me give it to you, baby."

Kurt turns his head and Burt leans up to see his face. Kurt's eyes are closed, his mouth softly frowning, lips parting and closing in rhythm with the lazy sink and pull of Burt's penis working him.

The tv's still on, Burt sees the colors moving on the screen out the corner of his eye, the lively noise of it in the background a little obnoxious. He almost wants to find the remote and put it off, but that would mean stopping.

He kisses Kurt's mouth. His dick throbs inside Kurt's pussy as Kurt sucks distractedly on his tongue. He takes his time tasting Kurt's mouth, overpowering him tenderly, before easing off.

"You don't know what you do to me," he murmurs. "Just want to put my dick in you, all day. Making me so goddamn crazy." He strokes Kurt's face. "You take such good care of me. You spoil me, you know that."

Kurt moans quietly. His fingers are holding onto Burt's shirt, squeezing the fabric reflexively.

"Spoiling my dick," Burt grumbles. "Give me that pussy any time I want it. Take Daddy's dick all day long. Fuck, baby."

Kurt's breathing fast, his eyes slitted, eyelids heavy. Burt loves their faces so close like this, he can see everything, his son's face while he's being fucked nice and slow, the slight tension of his brow, the tremor of his succulent lower lip, the delicate fan of eyelashes.

Before long he can't keep a reign on himself. He leans back, folds Kurt's legs down against his chest, bending him almost in two.

Kurt protests, trying to keep a hold of his shirt, pull him back down, but then Burt has him pinned and spread, his dick still buried snug inside him, like some greedy animal that can't be pried free until its had it fill.

"It's alright," he says, trying to sound placating, but his voice has gone low and a little slurred with lust. "S'alright, baby. Being so good for Daddy."

He holds the backs of Kurt's knees and watches Kurt's pussy getting fucked, forcing himself to keep it slow and even, the suction of Kurt's pussy around his penis every time he draws back to thrust making him pant and grunt, it's like it doesn't want to let it go, like it's hungry for the fucking.

"Oh, sweetheart," he moans, his cock aching, swollen, feeling so, so good. 

"Daddy–"

"Oh, yeah."

"I – I need to pee."

"Mmm, okay, just…almost there." Burt licks his lips, breathes and smells their bodies, the odor of Kurt's pussy sweet and ripe. He's broken out in a sweat up his back, his face is flushed hot. Every plunge of his penis is fraying his control. He's starting to thrust rougher. The pink, soft undersides of Kurt's feet as his legs are jolting, his toes splaying and curling.

~~~

"I know, baby, just give it a minute." Burt finishes buckling his belt. He adjusts the cushion that's under Kurt's hips. "Keep your knees up."

He resumes his seat, resting a hand on the back of Kurt's thigh, checking out his pussy.

"Wasn't too bad, was it?" he murmurs. He uses his thumbs to spread the outer lips of Kurt's pussy, admiring the wet pink that's exposed, Kurt's hole looks red, glistening.

Burt pulls his gaze away. He feels around the couch and finds the remote, mutes the tv. He settles back, making himself comfortable, just stopping short of smacking his lips. He's feeling drowsy and good. He rubs his hand absently over the crotch of his jeans, gently repositioning his cock, still sensitive, but it's a good feeling, his dick's very happy at present.

"Has it been a minute?" Kurt says.

Burt gives his butt a light smack, keeps his hand there.

"You gonna do another test before bed?" he says, looking over at his son.

Kurt's hands are curled around the backs of his knees, holding his legs up. Burt sees the grip of his fingers tighten.

"I just did one this morning."

"Alright," Burt says mildly. He can't see Kurt's face with the way he's lying. "Go on, you can get up."

Kurt lowers his legs. He has his head down as he wraps his robe around him, doing the tie. He doesn't look at Burt as he stands.

Burt catches his wrist as he turns to go.

"You're going to drip." 

He pulls Kurt to him.

"I'll get a tissue from the kitchen. Dad!" Kurt jumps as Burt slides his hand up the back of the robe, between Kurt's ass cheeks, fingertips sliding into the slit of his pussy. 

"Turn around."

"I need to–"

"I know. Just real quick." Burt guides Kurt with his hands on his hips. His son turns reluctantly, clicking his tongue. Burt lifts the robe to bare Kurt's buttocks. He spreads his cheeks with both hands. Kurt's pussy lips are creamy down the seam with ejaculate. Burt rumbles deep in his chest. "Let Daddy see." He pushes his face into Kurt's spread cheeks, the tip of his nose pushed to Kurt's ass hole, Kurt makes a startled noise and sways forward. Burt holds him still, inhales and groans, then nuzzles lower, tasting sloppily with his hot wet tongue. Kurt shudders.

"So good," Burt mutters, his mouth crushed up against Kurt's flesh. He lathes his tongue into the slick heat of Kurt's pussy, licking his own come. He swallows, says thickly, "Push it out for me."

"Dad, no," Kurt snaps. "I'm serious, I need to go. I'm going to–to–"

"Nah you won't." Burt kneads Kurt's ass cheeks with his hands. "Just push a little. Push Daddy's come out your pussy, come on. I want to see it." He strokes the tip of his tongue light and tickling between Kurt's labia, then he leans back, holds Kurt's cheeks open, watching. Kurt's sweet little puckered asshole grips and relaxes in small spasms as he does as Burt wants.

Burt repositions his hand so he can spread Kurt's flesh between two fingers, spread his vagina from behind and see his hole just as a fat glob of ejaculate oozes out.

"Oh fuck yeah," Burt breathes. "Spread your legs a little, baby."

Kurt makes a huffing noise, but he starts to shuffle his feet wider apart. The sticky drip of come trembles at the entrance of his vagina, the pearly load framed by pink, delicate flesh. Burt stills him with his hands.

"Hold on," he says. "Just let Daddy clean you up…" He nuzzles his face in, up between Kurt's spread ass cheeks, his tongue shaped flat, large, hot and wet and licking greedily at the sensitive hole. He licks his ejaculate away, swallowing and then licking some more. "Keep pushing, baby," he moans, lips kissing, sucking at Kurt's wet flesh.

"I can't. If I push I'm–I'm going to–" Kurt breaks off on a hitching breath. Burt can feel the twitch of his muscles.

"Don't you dare," Burt murmurs, laughter bubbling up in his chest. "Just push a little, just a little. Let me see that come drip."

Kurt does it. The small clenches of his pussy are tentative. Burt watches with his mouth a little way open. Sometimes he wonders how he got so lucky.

He keeps two thick fingers either side of Kurt's hole as Kurt pushes and he murmurs soft encouragement as more come appears, pearly, glossy, wobbling very slightly with Kurt's breathing and the twitch of his muscles.

"That's it," Burt whispers. "That's it, baby. You got a lot of Daddy's come in your little pussy, don't you?"

Kurt makes a weak noise of discomfort, reaching back with one hand to hold Burt's wrist, balance himself.

"Good boy, keep goin. Promise you can pee just as soon as we're done."

The wad of ejaculate is fat enough to begin to drop. It stretches slowly, hanging from Kurt's wet, well-fucked hole, shocking white between his pink little labia.

"Mm, that pussy's had Daddy's big dick unloading in it all day, hasn't it, sweetheart? Poor little pussy. Such a pretty pussy." Burt's eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches, licking his lips. The load is dangling, quivering. Kurt's stopped clenching and pushing. He stands stock-still.

"It–it feels like it's–" Kurt tries to look back over his shoulder.

"I got it, baby." Burt reaches with one hand, grabs a cushion.

"What are you doing?" Kurt turns his head the other way, twisting a little. The thick dangling thread of ejaculate trembles and Burt gets the cushion under it just as it falls. 

"Are you crazy?" Kurt cries.

"It'll wash out." Burt inspects the mucusy pool of come now staining the cushion cover. He places the cushion aside, slides his tongue into Kurt's pussy and fucks him like that until Kurt whines and his pussy grips around Burt's tongue. Burt grunts, tasting his own semen rich there, then he licks Kurt's labia, one last quick swipe, pats Kurt's thigh as he leans back. "Go on then, get to the bathroom."

Kurt pulls his robe quickly straight and hurries around the couch and out into the hall. Burt grins to himself as he listens to Kurt's feet on the stairs, the soft click of the bathroom door closing.

He wipes his mouth and grabs up the remote again.

~~~

A few days later and Burt's waiting outside the bathroom door. 

He knocks a second time.

"I'll be right out," Kurt calls from inside.

"I gotta get to work. What's the news?"

There's silence on the other side of the door. Burt folds his arms, dropping his head as he waits.

The door opens.

Kurt comes out, fussing with the sleeves of his sweater. He smiles at Burt, quick and, it seems to Burt, mechanical. His eyes aren't happy.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Burt takes him by the elbows. "No luck?"

"Yeah. No." Kurt's looking down at the floor. "I'm not... I'm not."

"Oh, baby." Burt pulls him close and presses his cheek to Kurt's hair. "It'll happen, don't worry." He rubs his hand up and down Kurt's back. "It'll be fine, okay?"

Kurt's arms are loose around him. Burt grips him tighter. He stands holding his son for a while. He can be late for work today.

~~~

"Kurt." Burt holds onto the banister, leaning to peer up the stairs to the landing. "That your phone ringing?"

He can still hear it, the tinny, muted trill of music coming from upstairs.

He calls up again. Again gets no answer. He starts up the stairs. 

The ringtone's on a loop and the song has just cut off mid-way and started up from the beginning as Burt reaches the landing.

The bathroom door down the hall is shut. Kurt must still be in the bath.

The ringtone cuts out just as Burt steps into Kurt's bedroom. 

He has a quick look in the obvious places, then after a bit more searching finds the cell phone peaking out from under Kurt's pillow.

He wakes up the screen.

Five missed calls from Blaine Anderson. Three new messages.

Burt frowns. Looks over his shoulder. Looks back down at the phone. He opens the most recent message.

**From Blaine Anderson:**   
_please just tell me if it's something i did? whatever it was I'm so sorry Kurt. Please call me._

Burt sits down on Kurt's bed. He hears the muffled thump and churn of water in the drain. The click of the bathroom door. Then Kurt's footsteps padding down the hall. 

He comes in wearing his bathrobe. His toiletry bag is under his arm. He stops as he sees Burt, the phone in Burt's hand.

"What's going on?"

"You seen how many missed calls you got from this kid?" Burt waves the cell phone. Kurt comes over and tries to take it out of his hand. Burt doesn't let him. "Hold on."

"It's my phone."

"What happened? He do somethin?"

"No." Kurt goes to the vanity table and dumps his toiletry bag.

"He disrespect you?"

"No."

"Tell me."

Kurt folds his arms, drawing his shoulders up. "What? There's nothing to tell."

"Right," Burt snorts. "Since the first time you met this kid you've been begging me to let him come round for dinner."

"So?"

"So all of a sudden I notice you've stopped doing that."

"Maybe I got bored."

"Of what? Asking?" Burt rubs his mouth, hiding a smile. "I might have said yes. Eventually."

"I just don't want to see him anymore," Kurt says airily, turning away and seating himself at the vanity. He slips a band on his head to keep his hair back from his forehead.

"Woah woah woah. Where's this coming from?"

"I'm just bored of him, Dad, what's the big deal?" Kurt reaches for a pot of skin cream, unscrews the lid, starts dabbing cream lightly under his eyes. His expression is bland as he regards himself in the mirror.

"How long have you felt like this?" Burt says. "I mean I thought you...you know, I thought you liked this kid."

"I did." Kurt shrugs. "For a while." He runs an elegant finger along his eyebrow, checking the shape.

"This isn't like you," Burt says quietly. "Come on. What's really going on?"

Kurt massages more cream into his forehead. "Why can't I just be bored?"

"Bored," Burt echoes quietly. He sighs. "So what, you gonna call him up? Tell him it's over?"

"I guess," Kurt says distractedly.

"Well I think you should. You can't just ignore him." Burt gets to his feet, goes and puts the phone on the vanity by Kurt's elbow. He puts his hand on Kurt's shoulder, watching him in the mirror. "You really sure about this?"

"I thought you didn't even like him," Kurt says, soft laughter in his voice. "You can't remember his name most of the time."

"Alright, wise guy." Burt takes hold of the back of Kurt's neck, stroking the soft skin slowly. He's quiet for a while. Kurt keeps applying cream to his face, under his jaw, down his neck. Burt likes watching him, the movement of his hands is always graceful and considered.

"I sure thought you liked him," Burt murmurs, brushing his fingertips up into Kurt's hair. "You liked his dick alright, didn't you?" he says in an undertone.

Kurt rolls his eyes.

"You weren't just doin that to make me happy, were you, baby?" Burt says.

"I liked it," Kurt affirms. "Please stop worrying so much. There's nothing to over-think. Blaine was fun."

Burt keeps stroking Kurt's hair.

"Okay," he says at length. "Just let him down gentle." He bends down and Kurt turns his head and Burt gives him a quick peck on the lips, then another on the cheek.

"Hey," Kurt grouses, quickly dabbing more moisturizer on the spot.

"I knew you were gonna be a heartbreaker," Burt chuckles, stroking Kurt's back before heading out the room.

"Dad?" Kurt calls after him.

"Yeah?"

"Could you close the door please?"

Burt smiles softly. "Sure thing." 

He pulls the door to.

~~~

"Grocery store closes at eight."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Kurt searches through the shoe rack under the stairs. One of the coats tumbles down off the line of hooks on the wall and Kurt makes a loud throaty noise of frustration as it lands on him. "I can't find them anywhere," he says, hanging the coat angrily back on its hook.

"Just grab some sneakers and let's go," Burt says. Kurt shoots him a black look as he emerges.

"I'll just check upstairs again." He swings around the banister end and runs up the stairs.

"Store's gonna be closed," Burt calls after him. He shakes his head, flicks his key-ring around his finger and looks about the entry hall, idly reaching to straighten the corner of a picture on the wall.

The doorbell rings. It startles a curse from Burt. He can hear Kurt coming down the stairs behind him as he opens the door.

The boy is standing on the step. His eyes are bright, his breathing a little uneven. The knot of his school tie is not quite straight at his collar and his blazer is unbuttoned, something forlorn and unkempt even in how it's hanging on him.

"Mister Hummel," he says, rushed and ardent, unbearably ardent, his dark eyes gazing up at Burt. "Please, I have to see Kurt–"

Burt hears the scrambling _thud-thunk-thud_ of a missed step on the stairs behind, looks back to see Kurt hauling himself up by the banister, twisting in a frantic hurry as he scrambles back up the stairs.

"Kurt!" The boy tries to come in. Burt blocks the doorway with his arm.

"Now just hold on," he says sharply.

"Please! Please, if I could just talk to him…" The boy shakes his head slightly, looking up at Burt like some puppy dog that's got itself stuck at the bottom of a well. Burt hears Kurt's bedroom door slam shut.

"You need to understand something." Burt jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "That's my boy. That's my one and only son."

"I know," the boy bursts out, just about tripping over himself to agree, "I that know, sir, and you have to believe me, I would never do anything to–"

"Looks like you already have, from where I'm standing," Burt says flatly. The boy flinches. Burt looks over his shoulder again. The house is ominously silent. He drops his arm from the door, pocketing his keys, steps down out of the house, pulls the door after him.

The boy backs down one step, then another, then he's standing on the path and Burt's standing on the bottom step.

"You mind telling me what exactly all this is about?"

"He won't take my calls–" the boy says quickly "and and I tried–I sent him an email and–"

"And?" Burt barks.

The boy darts a look around at the neighbors' houses before his eyes return to Burt's. "I just–I needed to know if he was okay. I–Sir, I really–I care" He draws a sharp breath, lets it out, gesturing with his hand "about Kurt. A lot. I just–I need to know he's okay. And if it was me or something I did or…" He trails off, stands with his hand still raised, in front of his chest, palm-up like he's holding something there.

Burt sniffs, twists his mouth up.

"Go home."

"But" The boy steps forward. "Please, can't I even–"

"If Kurt wanted to talk to you he'd be standing here instead of me." Burt nods past the boy to where his car is parked. "Go on."

The boy's mouth opens, closes. Opens and his voice wavers as he says "Did he say he doesn't want to be my boyfriend anymore?"

Burt pulls in a deep breath. He lets it out slowly.

The boy makes to go, his face dazed. He stops and looks at Burt again.

"I love your son," he says. He glances up at the house, the windows, a desperate look coming over him like he might try shouting up.

"Hey, hey," Burt says in a warning tone.

"Will you tell him for me?" the boy says.

Burt scrubs his hand across his face and then takes off his cap. He rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. He puts his cap back on.

"Kid. You should go home."

The boy looks over at the hedge like it'll help him out. The moment goes by, then he turns away again and heads to his car, walking with a sleep-walker. It all goes in one piece, he gets in, he starts up the car, he drives off, not really any pause along the way. He doesn't even look at the house as he pulls away from the curb.

~~~

Kurt's bedroom door is closed. There are no locks in the house. Burt goes into his son's room and finds it empty. For a split-second he's jolted with panic. Then he remembers the closet. Kurt's special place. Ever since he was little.

Kurt's sitting curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, his face hidden.

"I don't want to see him," Kurt says, his voice shrill, almost furious, even smothered in his arms.

"He's gone, it's okay." Burt kneels down and strokes his son's head. "Come on, baby, come out of there and talk to me."

"No."

Burt cards his fingers slowly through Kurt's hair, trying to soothe him. "He's not here anymore. Daddy sent him away."

"Good." Kurt jerks his head up and wipes angrily at his face, his cheeks blotchy red, eyes swollen and teary. "Why'd he even come here? Why can't he just…" He sniffs wetly, turns his face away.

"I thought we said you were gonna call him and end it."

"Why can't he just _figure it out_?" Kurt erupts. "Is it really that–that hard to get the message? When–when a person i-ignores you?" His lower lip wobbles and fresh tears gather, wetting his lashes, spilling down his cheeks.

"What's really going on here, baby boy?" Burt wipes Kurt's cheeks carefully with his thumb.

"I don't–I don't–" Kurt shakes his head, then slaps his hands roughly over his eyes. "I don't want to see him."

"You never have to see him again." Burt's careful to keep his voice calm, but inside something's starting to simmer and roil. Clearly this kid's done something Kurt's not telling him. Burt's already picturing climbing in his car, going over to the boy's house, grabbing him by that school tie and–

"What did you say to him?" Kurt says, looking up at Burt with shining eyes. Burt strokes his cheek slowly.

"Doesn't matter." He takes hold of Kurt's arm. "Come on. Come out. Do it for Daddy."

Kurt sniffs some more and then unfolds himself and crawls out of the closet. He falls into Burt's arms the moment he's on his feet. Burt sways him and murmurs to him until his breathing is calmer and no longer hitching with hiccups.

"What happened, baby?" he says, still in that careful, placid tone. "Tell Daddy everything."

"I don't want him to see me like this," Kurt whispers.

"Like what, baby?" Burt keeps swaying him gently, rubbing his back.

Kurt doesn't speak for several seconds. Then he pulls away from Burt. He gets a tissue from his bedside table. He stands by the window, wiping his face, blowing his nose. He stands looking out.

"Baby?" Burt moves to stand close behind him. He takes his son's hips and guides him back against his body. There's a spark of comprehension, electric. He tries to quash it at once, it's too much to hope, but there's a buoyant something rising up in him, he can't stop himself from sliding his large hands slowly around Kurt's waist, slowly slowly framing his belly with thumb and index finger either side. His breathing falters.

He pulls the bottom of Kurt's cardigan up quickly, the thin vest underneath, touches his son's naked belly.

"Kurt…" he says shakily. " _Kurt_." He can barely feel anything, the flesh is warm, soft as ever, maybe just the slightest swelling–

"I'm sorry I lied," Kurt says, his eyes wide as he tips his head back to look at Burt.

"Are you–really–?" Burt laughs disbelievingly. "Tell me. Say it."

Kurt's eyes fall shut. "I'm pregnant," he says tonelessly.

"How long?"

"I don't know. A while."

"A _while_?" Burt turns Kurt by the shoulders. He can hardly keep his hands off Kurt's little belly. He goes down on his knees in front of him. "Sweetheart. Oh, sweetheart," he says reverently, kissing his son's stomach. "When…?"

"I missed my period," Kurt mumbles. "And then…the tests said…"

"Baby, you should have told me." Burt tries to sound stern, but he's just about thrumming, almost too elated for words. The more he touches Kurt's belly the more he thinks he can feel the slight bump, the life growing there.

"I didn't want it to be real." Kurt tries to tuck his clothes back down. Burt won't let him, nudging his hands away gently but firmly.

"Perfect," Burt murmurs, kissing the soft flesh some more, stroking Kurt's hips and waist with shaking fingers. "Just perfect. Daddy's perfect little boy."

"That's why I didn't want Blaine to–"

"So beautiful," Burt says. "Can't believe I didn't see it." He looks up at Kurt, looks down at his belly and the rest of him, starts working the button of his trousers. "Let's get you out of these, baby boy."

"Dad…" Kurt tries to push his hands away. "I'm fine like this…"

"Daddy needs to see you."

" _No,_ " Kurt says forcefully, stepping around Burt, pulling his clothes straight. "You're not listening! You don't ever listen."

"Kurt." Burt twists to follow, shuffling, still on his knees. His hat now sits askew on his head and he reaches up and takes it off, drops it on the floor. He holds his hands out to Kurt. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry–it's just you've made me so happy–"

"And what about me?" Kurt says, his voice rising. "How is _this_ supposed to make me happy?" He gestures to his middle. "I'm this this bloated mess–I'm going to be" He shoves his hands roughly through his hair " _waddling_ around like some orangutan–"

"Shh, baby, no." Burt reaches for him again, his tone pleading. "I know it's hard to understand right now, it's gonna take time to–"

"Would it have been so bad to just let me pretend for a little while longer?" Kurt turns and twists out of Burt's hands as he tries to touch Kurt's legs, draw Kurt to him. Kurt steps back from his father, pushes at him in frustration as he keeps trying to follow, on his knees still in total supplication. "You don't care–I felt like an actual regular person–just–sixteen years old. Normal. Ordinary."

"You want to be ordinary?" Burt says. Kurt finally stops trying to keep away from him. Burt gets his hands either side of Kurt's thighs, looks up at him, emotion making his voice thick. "You could _never_ be ordinary. You're extra-ordinary."

"Yeah," Kurt says sourly, "you're always saying that." He tries to fold his arms but he ends up resting one hand on Burt's shoulder while he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan. "I _get it_ ," he says. "I just…wasn't ready for it to be over."

Burt lets things sit for a span of seconds, then squeezes Kurt's thighs in his hands, rallying, speaking gently,

"There're a lot of boys like Blaine out there…"

Kurt shakes his head, his eyes fluttering closed. "Don't, Dad."

"You're going to meet plenty more like him," Burt says. "I know it hurts right now. But that boy is…he's a boy. He was a toy for you to play with."

Above him, Kurt sniffs wretchedly, but remains otherwise quiet.

"How's someone like him ever going to understand?" Burt continues. "He couldn't. Not ever. People out there can't understand you and me." He strokes his hands up the outside of Kurt's thighs, grips his hips, then draws his hands slowly downwards again, dragging at the material of Kurt's trousers, feeling the shape of muscle so strong and supple underneath. "I'm gonna take such good care of you," he breathes, his gaze dropping from Kurt's face, roving down his body, lingering always on his belly. "Anything you want, baby. You understand? Anything. Daddy'll take care of it. Just tell me what you need." And then, because he can't resist any longer, he puts his face where he's so desperate to have it, against Kurt's stomach, nuzzling gently with his mouth, kissing him through his clothing.

After a moment, Kurt's hands come up to cradle his head, lightly stroking the stubble of his hair, either side of his neck, up behind his ears. Burt moans softly, his eyes closed, his cheek rubbing against Kurt's warm little belly.

"You'll see," he says. "Soon. You'll see what this means for us." He turns his head, carefully lifts Kurt's cardigan and vest again, exposing him. He breathes the smell of his skin, brushing his lips with the greatest tenderness and care against the precious flesh. "Can you feel it growing?"

Kurt's hands continue to caress his head. His thumbs outline the ridge of his brow. His fingertips stroke ticklish-light, tracing the shape of his skull.

"I'm gonna give you everything," Burt says. "Whatever you want. Anything, baby. Anything. Anything." He says it like a mantra as he kisses and breathes his son's flesh, feels the tiny life seeded in his son's belly, sensing it as surely as if it's emitting a palpable pulse of heat or light.

"What I want…" Kurt murmurs, his voice dreamy.

Burt looks up at him. There are no longer tears in Kurt's eyes, though his look is far-away.

"That's right," Burt says. He smiles, using his hold on Kurt's hips to jostle him gently. "You're the king around here now."

"I think…" Kurt cups his hands to Burt's face, guiding his head back. He strokes Burt's cheek with his knuckles, then brushes his fingers over his mouth and down his chin. "I want something sweet."

Burt quirks an eyebrow. "You want me to go get you something?" Kurt's thumb moves delicately along Burt's lower lip.

"I just feel like something," Kurt says. He watches Burt almost unblinking.

"What, baby? You want to go get some ice cream?" Burt takes Kurt's hand in his, tries to thread their fingers. "How about that?"

"No. I don't know." Kurt pulls his hand free. He goes back to touching Burt's mouth, kind of fixated. "Daddy?" he says. "Daddy, I feel funny."

"You don't feel good?" Burt catches his wrist. "I think you maybe you should have a lie down. Come on. Come on, you're just a little tired, baby."

Kurt starts undoing the buttons on his cardigan. Burt helps with his trousers. He gets them down Kurt's legs, holds them at his ankles so Kurt can step out of them. Kurt pulls off his vest and then he's standing in just his underwear and Burt is free to look.

"You're hardly showing," he says.

Kurt starts to take his underwear down. Burt gets a glimpse of his public mound, his cleft. Burt stops his hands and pulls the underwear back up.

"Aren't we going to bed?" Kurt says, his voice soft and almost perplexed.

"You're having a nap." Burt gets up, takes him by the shoulders. He's about to shepherd Kurt over to the bed when he catches sight of them both in the mirror. He sees the long white slope of Kurt's naked back. He turns Kurt so he's facing the mirror. He puts his hands on Kurt's waist, admiring how his hands look holding him, the contrast, the thickness of his fingers, the coarseness of his skin, and Kurt's belly, creamy, so young.

"Can't believe it," he says, quietly, speaking his thoughts without meaning to, his eyes moving over Kurt's body in the mirror, his hands gripping him a little tighter. He puts his mouth against the side of Kurt's head and smells his hair, his breath shaky as his throat goes tight all of a sudden. He slides his hands around to Kurt's belly again. Kurt's eyes regard him tiredly in the mirror.

"That's us," Burt whispers, covering the tiny swell of Kurt's stomach with both his hands. "That's you and me."

He's getting an erection. He can't stop himself pushing gently up against the soft swell of Kurt's buttocks.

"Can't believe we did it," he says. He presses his lips to Kurt's warm scalp, kissing his hair, kissing down to his ear and then his neck. He holds Kurt's belly, holds his body against him, undulates his hips, slow, very small movements, barely anything at all. "You let Daddy put that baby in your belly, didn't you." He's closed his eyes. He seals his mouth to Kurt's neck, suckling and licking, setting his teeth to the warm flesh, lightly. It makes a wet sound as he draws off. He murmurs low in his throat as his hands map the swell of his son's stomach. His hips shift as he rubs his cock.

"Love you so much," he says roughly, mashing his nose, his lips, messily against Kurt's neck. "Love knowing there's a part of me growing inside you. Love that you let me in. You were so good to let me in, baby. Letting Daddy put that seed in you." He shudders slightly, his dick twitching, recalling the divine squeeze of Kurt's cunt. "So good. Just for me. Daddy's baby growing in your belly. Every day. Growing every day."

"I'm scared," Kurt says, his voice so faint Burt almost doesn't catch the words. Hearing them though, his whole face squeezes, tenses, almost cringing, and he moves one arm around Kurt, around his ribcage, to hold him tight, his left hand splayed still on his stomach.

"I know. It's going to be okay. Daddy's here."

~~~

"I don't want it in my room."

Kurt is sitting cross-legged on his bed, a small bowl with peach slices in syrup resting on his knee.

Burt stands by the desk. He's holding Kurt's laptop in his hands.

"You're saying you just…don't want it anymore?" Burt says, forehead creasing in confusion. "This was expensive, Kurt. I can't just get you a new one for no reason."

Kurt licks peach juice off his thumb. "I don't want a new one. I just don't want it anymore. I don't use it. It's just taking up space."

Burt looks dubiously down at Kurt's desk. Asides from a few books, a CD player, some stationary, there isn't much else. The cable for the laptop lies neatly coiled on the chair.

"What about your friends?" Burt says. "That, ah, Facebook thing?"

"I quit."

"Quit?" Burt takes a moment trying to figure out how worrying he should find this information. "I thought you were addicted to that thing. What about all those pictures you had?"

"I've got them saved."

"But I thought your school friends were all on it."

Kurt puts another peach slice in his mouth, chews. "I've got their numbers on my phone," he says with a shrug.

Done with eating, he leans sideways across the bed and sets the bowl on the bedside table. His t-shirt rides up with the movement, revealing some of his waist, a little of the curve of his stomach. He catches Burt looking and he reclines on his side, resting his hand lightly over his belly. They regard one another for a moment, then Kurt sighs and turns onto his back, moving a little slower, a little more gingerly, than he would have done, before. He looks up at the ceiling.

"Please, Dad, just take it away."

Burt drums his fingers on the plastic lid of the machine and then nods. "Whatever you want." He shifts the laptop under his arm as he turns to leave the room.

"Will you come back up after?" Kurt says.

"I was just going to clear up downstairs."

"Can't you do that later?" Kurt turns his head. He has his fingers loosely threaded over his belly.

"Alright, if you like." Burt holds up the laptop. "Uh. So is there anywhere in particular you want me to keep this?"

Kurt turns his head away once more. "Somewhere I don't have to look at it."

Burt regards his son uncertainly for a beat. "Okay. I'll do that."

"You'll come back up?" Kurt says.

"I'll come straight back up."

~~~

Kurt sleeps in Burt's bed at night now.

He's often tucked up asleep by the time Burt comes to bed. More than once though, Burt has come in to find his bedroom in darkness with Kurt sitting up in bed, naked, the duvet crushed around his legs, his arm cradling his belly.

"Dad. Do I look…?" Kurt never finishes. Burt never lets him, climbing across the mattress, kneeling in front of Kurt, tracing his hands down Kurt's neck, his shoulders, his breast bone, finally his belly. He touches Kurt's young body reverently, knuckles brushing the swell of his navel.

"You look beautiful. You're so, so beautiful like this." 

He guides Kurt to lie down and kisses him. He holds his son's belly with both his hands as he kisses it. Sometimes Kurt shuts his eyes and seems then to fall asleep. Sometimes he draws his legs up, splays his thighs and guides Burt by his shoulders, down, hands cupping his head, his body wriggling gently. Burt breathes in the smell there, he strokes Kurt's pussy with his lips and tongue, and his large fingers soon slippery with Kurt's excitement, he puts his mouth over him and eases his tongue into Kurt's clenching little hole.

~~~

He doesn't put his penis in him now. He knows it upsets Kurt that he's stopped, but some deeper instinct makes him hold back, now the baby is real.

"But I want it," Kurt grunts, looking back over his shoulder at Burt with dark eyes. He's still quivering slightly, still lying with his legs twining and hitching from orgasm.

"No, baby." Burt gently takes Kurt's hand off his penis, where Kurt's been trying to encourage him on, angling his bottom back, trying to get Burt's penis where he wants it, between his cheeks, capture it and back his pussy onto it.

"Why not?" Kurt's mouth twists down, he looks so young, he cheek so round as he turns back, petulant, he struggles weakly in Burt's grasp. Burt lets go of his wrist and lays his hand instead on his belly. It seems to wait for his touch, so warm, ripe under his palm, perfect. Burt breathes out gustily against Kurt's neck. He loves the feeling of it, loves that there's no way to hide the child that's growing in Kurt when he's naked like this.

"I'll kiss your pussy any way you want," Burt tells him. "I take care of that little pussy, don't I? Lick your pussy just how you like it. You like your Daddy's tongue in your pussy don't you, baby?"

"You don't want to be inside me anymore."

"Baby, of course I do." Burt pulls Kurt firm back against him, lies back, holding Kurt's thigh so his legs fall open, he's pliant, lets Burt handle his body so Burt's prick slides between his pussy lips from behind. "You know I do. You know how much Daddy wants that pussy." Burt undulates his hips slowly, wets his prick lazily in Kurt's juices, the head of his penis sliding between the folds of flesh, he can feel the heat at the slippery entrance of Kurt's vagina. It would be so easy. "But we're waiting, aren't we, sweetheart? For the baby."

"But…" Kurt starts to wriggle and Burt takes hold of his hips to keep him steady, puts his teeth lightly to Kurt's neck.

"No, baby."

~~~

The boys come by the following week. Three-thirty, right after school lets out.

Burt frowns at them, standing grouped around the steps up to the house.

"Hey, Mister Hummel…"

Burt recognizes the boy. The school quarterback. He stands with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, darting awkward looks at the others. He peers up at Burt reticently.

"Uh. We came by to speak to Kurt. Is he, uh, in?"

"We're in Glee Club with him," a voice pipes up from the back.

The boys shuffle apart, leaning away to reveal a scrawny kid in a wheelchair.

"We're his friends," a kid with a thick mop of blonde hair adds. He shakes his head, rubs at the back of his neck.

Burt gestures with the dishcloth in his hand. "Come on in."

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt stands pressed close to the doorframe in the kitchen doorway, one arm across himself, his hand clenched in the front of the blue checked apron he's wearing.

The noise and movement is alien and jarring in the entryway, in their quiet house, where it's only been the two of them for what feels like so long.

The boys stand, still in a hopeless sort of huddle, embarrassed.

"Kurt, hey."

"S'up, dude."

"Hey, man."

"What's up, Kurt."

"How you been, man?" The quarterback says this, stepping forward, between Burt and Kurt, moving his hand up like he's about to pat Kurt on the shoulder. Burt sees him drop his arm back like he's thought better of it. When he steps aside again, Burt sees that Kurt has withdrawn a further step into the kitchen.

"Why don't you boys head through," Burt says, nodding to the living room. "I can fix you some drinks."

"A little help?" a voice calls. The kid in the wheelchair is still sitting forgotten at the bottom of the steps. The quarterback and the boy with the shaved head tramp back out, take an arm of the chair each, haul the chair and its occupant up and into the house. The chair's metal parts rattle noisily as they set it down.

"Go on through," Burt says again, maneuvering in the cramped entry to close the front door. The boys head into the next room, quiet, looking around them with curiosity, a couple of them throwing unsure looks over their shoulders at Kurt. 

It's the first time Burt can remember any school friends – boys at any rate – coming by the house since Kurt started high school.

~~~

"I can't," Kurt hisses. He's at the sink, wringing his apron in his hands. "Dad–please–make them go–"

"Kurt. Hey." Burt takes him by the elbows. "Come on. It's just your friends." He leans close, says softly, "You can't see."

"You can. You can." Kurt's breathing fast, pulling at the apron. He really isn't showing very much – barely a bump with his clothes on, the baggy front of the apron hides it completely.

"You should see your friends while you still can." Burt gives Kurt's arm a squeeze. "This'll be good for you. You've barely left the house in days."

Kurt pulls at the tie of the apron at his neck, pulls at the collar of his shirt and then rubs his hands up his neck like there's a cord constricting, pulling tight there.

"Shh, now, come on." Burt moves close, trying to hold him, but Kurt balks, holding onto the side of the sink.

"No. Fine. I'm alright."

"I'm gonna come in with you–"

"It's fine." Kurt's face is white. He moves past Burt. His hands are still restlessly arranging his apron as he disappears into the hall.

Burt leans against the sink. He glances out through the kitchen window, unseeing, at the yard. Drops his head, listening as the voices of the boys in the next room lift at Kurt's appearance.

He remains at the sink a while longer, staring at his reflection, doubled in the double-glazing. He looks away, aside at the countertop where Kurt has dishes and mixing bowls lined up, his folder of recipe cuttings lying open next to a packet of flour and the kitchen scales.

He moves. He takes glasses down from the cupboard and lines them up on a tray. He catches Kurt's voice and pauses to listen, but it's muted, Burt can't make out what he's saying.

He purposefully doesn't rush as he tugs the fridge door open, lifts out a bottle of Coke.

"… _totally_ different if you came back…"

The quarterback trails off as Burt comes into the living room with the tray.

"He won't mess with you again, Kurt, we promise," the Asian kid says.

"We need you back in the mix," Wheelchair insists.

Kurt is sitting on the couch with a pillow in his lap. The Asian kid is sitting next to him, the blonde kid perched on the arm of the couch. The quarterback is in Burt's chair, sitting forward, he's been leaning a little towards Kurt as he's been talking. Mohawk and the wheelchair kid are stationed by the fireplace.

There's quiet as the tray goes down on the coffee table. The boys wait until Burt gestures, then lean in to grab for drinks, grunting their _thank you_ 's.

"Mister Hummel, you'd let Kurt come back, right?" the quarterback says.

"We've got a full security detail worked out," Wheelchair says, adjusting his glasses, bobbing his head as he glances at Burt.

"No way Karofsky'll try anything again," Mohawk says. He hitches an arm up on the mantle piece, takes a large swallow of his soda.

"And you wanna come back, right, man?" the quarterback says eagerly, looking at Kurt.

"I–well–" Kurt's eyes dart to Burt. "I…I think…"

"Kurt," Burt says, "that oven's still on. You need to check on the food?"

Kurt stares blankly for a moment, fingers clenched at the edges of the pillowcase. Then he ducks his head, pushes himself up, quickly, stiffly. He hurries out, stooped. Burt watches him go, his hands on hips. He glances back at the boys.

"Now, we appreciate you guys coming by…"

"We just want Kurt to come back to school," the quarterback says.

"We sound super shitty without him," Mohawk adds. 

"We'll make sure Karofsky stays away this time," the Asian kid says. "We talked to him. He's agreed a truce."

Burt looks from one young face to another, shakes his head slightly.

"You boys finish up your sodas."

He finds Kurt crouched by the oven. Kurt straightens and comes to him, into his arms, throws himself at him so Burt actually stumbles back a step.

"I want them to go now," Kurt says fiercely. "Please. I hate them staring at me. They keep staring." He tucks himself harder against Burt's body. Burt sighs.

"You gotta try at this, sweetheart. You'll regret it later. It's not healthy, not having friends."

Kurt's fingers grip at the back of shirt. "I've got you," he says, his face squashed against Burt's chest.

"You're going to want to see them again, after." Burt strokes his hair.

"They know," Kurt says quietly, with certainty. "I can tell. The way they're staring at me. They kept staring at me."

"They weren't. Nobody's staring. They just haven't seen you for a while. Come on. You're a big boy."

Kurt lifts his head, looks towards the door doubtfully.

"Don't make me go back in there." Kurt slides his hands under Burt's shirt collar, then down his chest, palms warm and flat to Burt's sternum. "Daddy. Please. I can't. I really can't." He leans up suddenly, crushing his mouth to Burt's.

Burt holds him gently away. "Alright, baby, just–"

"Make them go. I only want you." Kurt clutches at him, trying to slide his arms around Burt's neck, his mouth breathless and close to Burt's again, his lips seeking Burt's. "I just want to be with you, Daddy."

"Hey, hey, hey." Burt's voice is low and cajoling, the voice he used a lot on Kurt when he was younger. He looks to the door. "You don't want your friends to hear you say that now, do you? What'll they–"

"I don't care." Kurt butts his face into Burt's chest again, hanging against him wretchedly. 

Then he detaches abruptly. Slides down, down to his knees, holding Burt's belt for support as he lowers himself.

"Kurt–" Burt reaches after him, but Kurt's already nuzzling his cheek and nose and his open mouth against Burt's prick through his jeans.

"Come on, buddy, up you get," Burt says gruffly, darting another look back at the doorway.

"I just want this." Kurt rubs his cheek into the denim, lifting his face, so fresh and pleading, like something holy. "I'll do anything, Dad, please. I don't need anyone else. I don't want to see them again. Don't make me go back in." 

"Kurt…"

"I only want you." He puts one hand on his belly, cups Burt's penis in the other.

Burt touches his cheek, brushes his thumb across his son's mouth, the soft flesh of his lips stretching a little, yielding as Burt draws his lower lip down and presses his thumb to Kurt's teeth, feels the inside of his lip, slippery warm.

"You just want your Daddy, don't you, sweetheart?" Burt murmurs.

Kurt nods unsteadily, only small movements, but Burt holds his chin and he feels everything, drinks in the sight of Kurt's face tipped back, the anguish and need in his look so potent, laid out, just for Burt.

"Poor baby boy."

Kurt blinks his eyes shut and drops his chin, pushing his mouth into Burt's hand, kissing his palm.

"It'll be alright now. Daddy's going to make it all better," Burt says.

~~~

"If he changes his mind…" the quarterback says uncertainly, standing between two steps, the rest of the boys already moving off down the path.

"We just figured it was worth a shot," the blonde adds from the bottom of the steps, scuffing the heel of his shoe on a bit of weed grown through the paving.

"We appreciate it." Burt nods to them. 

The wheelchair kid twists back to give him a final wave from the end of the path. They go, the quarterback last of all, head down and hands in his pockets. Burt watches him out of sight, the red of his jacket through the hedge and then gone.

~~~

"It's alright. Hey, come on. It's just Daddy now." 

Kurt's still kneeling where Burt left him. He says nothing, just grabs for Burt's belt buckle and starts on it. His hands are shaking slightly.

"Let's go upstairs," Burt says, but Kurt has his pants open fast, has his dick through the slit of his boxers, immediately takes the pink mushroom head of it into his wet, hot mouth. "You didn't like those boys here," Burt grunts, bracing a hand on the counter.

He strokes Kurt's cheek to feel the shift of his jaw muscles as he suckles. 

"Daddy won't let them in again." 

He cups the back of Kurt's skull, his penis stiffening, he can push forward. Kurt's mouth takes him hungrily. Burt shifts his stance, rocks gently at the hips.

"That better now, angel? You're Daddy's brave boy, aren't you?"

Kurt's agitated still. He gags trying for more, a spasm of slippery muscle, pulls off retching, his mouth hanging open red and drooling.

Burt makes a low comforting noise, takes Kurt's chin and tips his head back again.

"Let Daddy." He wipes his penis along Kurt's lower lip, daubing wet, then feeds the plump bulb back into the shiny cherry of Kurt's mouth, shaped for him in a waiting circle.

Kurt clutches at Burt's jeans, baggy at his thighs, holding otherwise still, eyes heavy-lidded as he calms and relaxes his jaw, moaning soft and wavering as Burt holds his head and feeds his penis deeper into his mouth. 

Burt pulls out to finish. He grabs at the counter one-handed. His fingers make a loose slippery ring under the head of his cock, the chamber of his fist makes wet fleshy noise as he beats off. He can see Kurt's pink tongue trembling gently, waiting. Kurt blinks his eyes closed, a stammering flutter of delicate skin as the first glob of come hits his face, like he's unprepared. The first line of it lands along the side of his nose and just beneath his eye, just shy of his eyelash. 

Burt wanks his cock shakily, a rough noise breaking from the back of his throat as pulse after pulse of hot pearly slime streaks Kurt's cheek, mouth and chin. He exhales wetly as he looks, the motion of his hand grown slow, he looks at the red wet bulb of his cock pointing at Kurt's softly-parted red mouth. 

Kurt opens his eyes dreamily as Burt wipes his drooling slit along the clean, soft skin just under Kurt's chin. He holds his penis against Kurt's lower lip, surveying his work, breathing labored still. Kurt's face is satisfyingly messy, cheeks flushed, mouth swollen and still wanting. The slime of his father's seed glistens on his skin.

"Daddy's boy," Burt grunts appreciatively as Kurt cleans his cock head delicately with his pink, warm tongue.

~~~

Burt takes a picture that night, after dinner. Usually, he takes them when Kurt is asleep, or when he's unaware, reading curled on the couch, or he takes them from the doorway of Kurt's bedroom, snapping one off as Kurt sits at his vanity. Kurt always squawks and jerks around angrily when he hears the soft mechanical click and whirr of the camera.

Kurt is withdrawn at dinner. Burt feels a strange gloom settle over the two of them as they sit together. He can tell by how Kurt's holding his body, by the look in his eyes, he's somewhere else.

He still seems removed when Burt takes him upstairs. He lets himself be undressed and opens his mouth to Burt's tongue as they kiss, his body is almost like a doll's, he's gone so soft and easy.

"Long day, baby," Burt murmurs as he arranges Kurt on the bed. He wants him lying on his side on top of the sheets. He wants his legs arranged just so, the left leg drawn up at the knee, so Burt can slide his hand up, stroke and tickle Kurt's vulva.

"What are you thinking, huh?" He kisses Kurt's naked back. Kurt lies still, his hand curled loosely against his mouth, his eyes lidded and gazing towards the windows, fixed on nothing. "You tired?" Burt slides his fingertip into Kurt's vagina, wiggles it gently before easing out again. He probes gently, idly, at the hot wrinkle of Kurt's asshole.

Kurt's hand moves down to his belly. The pregnancy is more pronounced like this, when he's lying on his side.

"Don't move," Burt says.

He gets up from the bed.

"Don't move," he says again, going out into the hallway outside the bedroom. He's left the camera on the little table there, the battery charging next to it, plugged in at the wall.

He comes back with his head down, fiddling with the camera buttons, using the edge of his thumb, his fingers too clumsy. The screen lights up white and the lens folds out.

Kurt is leaning up on his elbow, awkwardly, his legs a little further apart than they had been in subtle compensation for the roundness of his belly. The remote look he's had since coming upstairs has receded, he's alert as he takes in the camera in Burt's hands.

"Lie back." Burt lifts the camera in front of his face, adjusting the zoom. Looking at the display screen, he watches as Kurt pushes himself upright.

"Don't, Dad." Kurt reaches back for a pillow to hide himself.

"Just one picture." Burt lowers the camera a couple inches, so he can meet Kurt's eye. "You're going to want these memories, baby. It'll go by so fast and you'll want something to remember."

Kurt stares at him wordlessly. There's something in his look, a pulling back, a dimming, and it troubles Burt. He's about to give in, put the camera aside, but then Kurt blinks and does as Burt wants, lying back and pillowing his cheek on his hand, curling his other hand just below his hipbone, the curve of his fingers complimenting the curve of his stomach.

"That's good," Burt breathes. He looks at his son through the camera's screen. "Put your feet together for me."

He takes one picture, kneeling at the end of the bed, angling the camera so that he has all of Kurt's naked body in frame, and then leans lower, turning the camera in his hands and taking a picture from the bottom of him, with the naked undersides of his feet in the foreground, the beautiful soft child-like nakedness of his heels and his arches resting together.

He takes several pictures of Kurt's whole body, then many more of different pieces of him, the sweep of short hair at the nape of his neck and behind his ear, the bone of his shoulder and a dusky pink nipple. He photographs Kurt's face, and Kurt closes he eyes for that.

He poses Kurt's hand over his belly. He lingers with the camera to capture that arrangement, enjoying the fine shape of the bone of Kurt's fingers, the fullness of his stomach. 

He has to stop after photographing Kurt's bellybutton. He has to lower the camera for a moment and stroke Kurt's bellybutton with his thumb, then adjust his hardening cock in his boxers. Kurt's eyes are open again, slits, thick lashes that seemed too heavy to move, he looks at his father unblinking.

Kurt turns onto his back, his legs open and his hands between them. He draws his feet up, so they are off the bed and up, and his thighs are folded. He traces his fingers lightly around his pubic mound, showing Burt the pink animal cleft of his body.

The camera slips from Burt's loose grip and lands on the bed.

"Aren't you going to?" Kurt says, tilting his head on the bedclothes, looking childish with his hair across his brow.

"You want me to?" Burt scrubs at his crotch again, shifts on his knees, rubs his balls and resettles his penis.

"Don't you want a picture?" Kurt says, like he hasn't heard him, and he dips his middle finger down the middle of his pussy, stroking his labia and then parting his flesh, holding himself open so the entrance of his vagina is totally exposed, red meat, for Burt's gaze, for the camera. 

"I'll tell you what I want." Burt takes Kurt's ankles. He pushes Kurt's legs further back, so his belly is between his thighs. "Jesus, baby. Love you like this." Burt is kneeling close enough that the coarse hair on his legs brushes Kurt's bottom. "Love that." He licks his lips, looking down Kurt's body, his pussy, his stomach full of the child. "That big belly."

Kurt is breathing a little faster, through his nose, Burt can hear each breath.

"Touch that pussy for me," Burt says.

He holds Kurt's shins as Kurt strokes his fingers very lightly about his vulva. He rests his middle finger on the hood of his clit, it naturally finds its place there, and Burt squeezes Kurt's shins slow and warm with his hands.

"Yeah, like that. Tickle that little pussy."

Kurt plays delicately with the rosy little flute of flesh. He teases his clit, worrying the flesh almost shyly, restlessly jostling his fingertip there.

Burt places one large hand over Kurt's belly, watching his finger, the slight, fine shift of bone and muscle up the back of Kurt's hand.

"Put it inside."

Kurt's finger stills. He slides lower, touches at the entrance of his vagina. He pushes in gingerly, tipping his head back against the mattress, his throat shifting, but the little noise Burt's waiting for doesn't come. 

Burt splays his legs just that little bit wider, wanting the full view. The sight is too much, almost taboo with the growing child so close, inside Kurt's body. Kurt's fingers rest trapped and slightly squeezed, framing him where his vagina is penetrated with his long middle finger, red and helpless around the digit.

"Oh, that cunt," Burt mutters. He can't be patient. He pulls Kurt's wrist and pulls Kurt's finger out. Kurt's vagina seems to flinch at the retraction, squeezing closed, but Burt sees the dark hidden hole before the flesh draws together. Burt moans, lifts Kurt's hand to his face and smells his finger.

He breathes out shakily, he looks at his son lying there, open under his gaze. Kurt's face is cherubic, but he is sad. Burt can see it. He looks like an old painting, like the paintings where the woman's face seems strange, beautiful, glowing white, she's looking off, away at something, something beyond the edges of the frame. That's how Kurt looks, even though he's looking right at his father.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Kurt says, abruptly, flatly.

"What do you mean?" 

Kurt is quiet, and when he speaks he's reticent, feeling his way with each word.

"I don't know…how to say…" His face is perfectly composed, but still strangely glowing. His eyes are wet suddenly, a tear slides fat out the edge of his eye, it happens all at once, completely out of context with the moment before, and the moment before that.

"Alright, honey, it's okay. You had a tough day, that's all." 

He lets down Kurt's legs. Kurt does nothing, makes no move to lift his hand to wipe his eyes.

"I have this feeling," he says softly, "like…like it won't be okay."

Burt touches Kurt's face. "You're hormonal. This is what happens."

Kurt closes his eyes.

"You need a good night's sleep is what you need." Burt brushes the tears away as they come from Kurt's closed eyes.

~~~

He wakes when the room is black, just weak light from downstairs soft in the hall, Kurt's body wriggling against him, Kurt's fingers around his penis, Kurt's cunt a slippery tight ring against the head of his dick.

He pushes up onto his elbow, grabbing at his son's hip, thrown groggy into hot wakefulness. His is body sweaty and ready, roused for sex, he's been simmering for a while, oblivious. His penis is wet in Kurt's hand. "Baby–what're you doin? What're you" He grunts as Kurt clumsily handles him. Kurt makes a low little whining noise in the darkness, folding and splaying, moving back against Burt, his back to Burt's sweaty chest, losing his hold on Burt's prick in all the slippery movement.

"Just–let me-" Burt reaches down and takes his prick in hand. He finds Kurt's hot entrance. "You want that?" He pushes at Kurt's hip to fix the angle, Kurt bending his left leg up, and Burt pushes the crown of his penis into him, bites out, " _Shit_ –" and puts his body behind the thrust, sinking his penis into his son with a choked moan.

"Love you," Kurt whimpers. "I love you. Dad-"

"Oh fuck." Burt clutches Kurt's ass, his thigh, hand slipping on sweat, he draws his hips slow, working into his son's cunt. "Aw, fuck. S'tight, baby. We were…we were s'posed to wait, baby…" He braces himself over Kurt more, struggling and pulling himself over, Kurt's body under him, he's trying to keep the weight of his big body braced, trying to keep a presence of mind with his prick wanting only to surge forth and have its way. He pushes the duvet away, pats and grabs pleasure-drunk at Kurt's ass, taking his pussy roughly.

"Baby's gonna feel it," he whispers against Kurt's ear, his penis making a slippery squelching noise fucking into Kurt's cunt. The squeeze is sucking wet, it's making him crazy, almost brutish, his balls jostling, slapping Kurt's pussy shamelessly. Kurt is moaning, high and drawn-out, sounding confused and pleading. "Take it for me. Cunt's so hot for it. Take your Daddy's big prick," Burt grits out. He strokes his hand restlessly over Kurt's stomach, Kurt's body jolting helplessly with Burt's wild thrusting. The thought of Kurt's body stretched and stuffed like this, swollen beyond its regular bounds by the life Burt's planted in it proves to be the thing that does him in.

He's destroyed, his hand on Kurt's belly, his hips jumping, seating his penis deep in Kurt's pussy and shaking there like a fat weasel twitching and squirming in ecstasy, wormed deep in this perfect burning burrow, he finishes shuddering.

"How's that?" he slurs after, still trembling, sliding his hand under Kurt's clammy cheek, turning Kurt's head limp and heavy so he can find Kurt's mouth. He keeps their sweating bodies close as he presses their lips, his penis still tucked up inside. "After this one…" he huffs, mouth-to-mouth, "I'm going to give you more."

Kurt whines and tries to put his face into the pillow, tugging his hips away, Burt's penis sliding out some before Burt stills him with his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of his bottom. Something had been sparked in him, Kurt waking him this way, in the darkness, body twisting into him, fingers struggling to feed his father's penis into his body.

"I was wrong," he sighs, so much breath in him it's a pleasure to let it rush from his nostrils, empty himself out. "Shouldn't have tried to wait." 

He rubs his forehead into Kurt's shoulder blade, mutters low, still quiet rattling in his breathing as he regains himself, his strands of thinking connecting up falteringly. "Let you get like this. I shouldn't have…" He swallows, his eyes pressed shut, tender emotion sweeping over him for the body that's under him, the heat and life, quiet, the vital clutch still holding his soft penis. 

Kurt lies still, his face now turned against the pillow as he wanted it, Burt's hand withdrawn. He breathes quick, huffing, he's still excited. Burt could feel it. He didn't finish before Burt, he's still waiting.

"You can have Daddy's prick whenever you want." Burt rubs Kurt's thigh. "You've been all worked up, haven't you. And that's why you've been…" He doesn't finish. He pats Kurt's knee in understanding. He's feeling relieved. He knows the problem now. "You think the little baby's keeping you from having fun."

Kurt stirs at that, as if he means to move away. Burt realises he might be feeling guilty, ashamed that Burt knows his feelings.

"S'alright," he says, to calm him, and he draws back enough for his penis to slip free. Kurt murmurs and twists weakly. Burt kisses his fever-hot cheek. "I know, sweetheart." His voice is low, the darkness in the bedroom and the muggy clinging stillness of the air and the stink of sex and the lingering strangeness still from the visitors in their house make the secret off all of this that much more vivid to him. It arouses him, he realises, to play to it. He thinks of the young boys who had gathered downstairs in his living room. Not one of them even suspecting. Kurt sitting right there among them, belly large with Burt's child. 

He strokes two fingers around Kurt's vagina.

"You're so tight because I haven't been fucking you," he says. "You woke me up. Needed it, didn't you." He starts to push his fingers in and he feels the hot run of come from inside. He wipes it on Kurt's skin and pulls his ass cheek aside so his pussy will be spread. He touches the slimy heat lazily with his thumb. "Mmm, messy little pussy."

He's half-hard soon, it feels like too soon until he's buried in Kurt's cunt again.

"Oh…oh yes…" Kurt whimpers into the pillow. Burt has pulled him up onto his knees. Kurt keeps his head down.

Burt moves into him easily. Kneeling like this, slapping into his son from behind, he can't help but think of dogs, he feels the slippery compelling suck of his son's cunt around him, the way he's lying, offering his pussy up in supplication, he feels the largeness of his own body and the forceful insistence and arrogance of his big prick, slathered, claiming, reveling in the conquest of his son's young body. He feels the fruit of his work, leaning down to hold Kurt's belly with both hands, feeling it sway heavy with each roll of his hips.

"You tell me–to take it easy," he pants brokenly. He doesn't think Kurt hears. His son's face is pushed into the sheets, crying out as Burt's ball sack slaps his clit, wailing as his father's prick dances slippery and thick in his cunt.

He lifts his head fitfully, gulping air, pushing up onto his elbows, gripping at the sheets in front of him, whinging in a kind of agony, close to orgasm but not yet there, the need for it making him desperate and animal.

" _D-Dad_ –mnh, Daddy–"

"Yeah, I can feel it-I can-" Burt straightens and holds his hips, slotting his prick into him roughly. "Getting tight on me. Oh, fuck. Come on. Let me feel you come. Let it go." His balls smack against Kurt, slap slap slap, dirty noise with Kurt's childish, beseeching wails, beating his son's defenceless clit and feeling his cunt spasm tighter around his penis with each blow. He reaches suddenly underneath and feels for Kurt's clit and at the first touch Kurt buckles up and shatters, convulsing awkwardly while having to stay kneeling, his belly keeping him from collapsing forward.

Burt's cock springs free of Kurt as he shudders. He lightly slaps son's twitching wet pussy with his upturned hand, patting fast at his clit so Kurt yelps and tries to curl away, tries at the same time to spread his legs wider for more.

He manoeuvres Kurt down onto his side, while he's still shaking, and pushes at his buttocks to make a way for himself, put his cock to the hot seam of his son's body and sink into him again. It's very good, Kurt's cunt hot from its pleasure and still convulsing. He pats at Kurt's soft bottom and then holds his stomach again, helplessly returning there to the proof and jewel of their connection. He ruts and moans, working himself in that wet sucking clench, this place made just for him. He finishes with a shout and knows it's better than anything he ever had when he was a young man, he'd never known anything so good existed before this.

They lie together until he thinks Kurt might be asleep. He leaves him for some minutes, then puts his fingers into him, plays his pussy until Kurt is moving for him like a puppet, opening for him, murmuring feebly like a little animal asking to be fucked, rubbing into Burt's hand.

"That's good," Burt sighs in his ear. "You're so good for me. Give Daddy that cunt."

Kurt scratches at his wrist and cries out like it's hurting. Burt fucks his fingers into him harshly, breathing hard, hooking his fingers like hooking into the mouth of a fish, pushing at his clit with his thumb. Kurt's body heaves and struggles, he holds his stomach with both hands, helpless, then comes, his legs fighting Burt's hand, his arm, only surrendering at the last, ecstasy distorting his features, his mouth stretching wide open.

~~~

"I love you."

"You don't know how much I love you." 

Burt strokes Kurt's back and they breathe slow together. Time pulls on and he thinks Kurt must be asleep, he feels the warm puff of his breathing against his skin.

~~~

He wakes in the morning to his alarm, alone. He thinks Kurt must be in the bathroom.

He puts on his robe and yawns, stands scratching at his ribs in the doorway. He sees the door of the bathroom standing open down the end of the hall and he can't hear water running from the sink or the gurgle of pipes from the toilet flushing.

The bathroom is empty when he looks in. So is Kurt's bedroom.

He stands for a moment in the quiet hallway.

Downstairs, Kurt is not in the living room, not in the kitchen. It's all tidy from the night before, no cereal bowl or sign at all that Kurt has risen early and come down for breakfast.

The sky out the kitchen window is sweet blue, guileless and young, early sunlight rushing in the leaves of the maple tree by the bench in the garden.

Burt goes back upstairs. He's trying to go fast, clumsy, he's stupid and slow.

"Kurt? Kurt?"

He goes back to the bedroom. He hangs on the doorframe, looking quickly in, pushes himself away and strides to Kurt's room again. He turns in a circle on the rug, feels a flicker of relief remembering the closet. Kurt's special place.

He opens the door. Kurt is not there. He pushes the clothes on the hanging rack aside, the hangers creak as the clothes crush together, he looks stupidly into the corners of the closet, at the shoe boxes and storage boxes.

Kurt isn't under the bed – not either bed, not in either room. He's not in the bathroom (Burt looks in again, yanks the shower curtain away). He's still nowhere downstairs, Burt goes through every room, he calls and he's starting to panic. Kurt never goes out, not without Burt. He hasn't left the house on his own since his last days at the high school.

He phones Kurt's cell phone and hears it ringing upstairs. He follows the sound, gripping the banister.

Kurt's phone is on his desk.

Burt's chest feels horribly tight. He looks out Kurt's bedroom window at the truck in the drive. They'd gotten rid of the Escalade months ago.

He looks at Kurt's bed and sees it – there is a note on Kurt's pillow.

He unfolds the paper and it reads _Dear Dad_ and he drops the paper.

"No." 

He goes to the chest of drawers and pulls the top drawer open. It's empty. So is the second drawer. He pulls all of the drawers out and he stumbles to the wardrobe again and looks up at the top shelf, where Kurt keeps his cases. The largest suitcase is gone.

He starts for the door, thinking _downstairs, outside, he'll be just outside_ , but he stops and wheels around to go back for the folded paper. He stoops to get it. He's light-headed as he straightens, he puts his hand out, leaning on the wall as he reads again, Dear Dad, It's so hard to write this, he falls against the wall, clapping his hand to his mouth. He breathes thickly against his fingers, then feels he might be sick, he turns his hand over, pressing the back of his wrist to his lips and swallowing. He looks again at Kurt's writing on the page. His eyes go strangely out of focus and he blinks, trying frantically to clear his vision to read. 

His chest is so tight. He can't draw breath, his lungs feel as if they've shrunk in his chest. He staggers trying to get to the bed to sit. Bent at the waist, he reaches for the bed frame to steady himself, and then he's falling forward, his body won't move the way he wants it to, it's like there's a rope around his chest pulling him over and his body is going, hard and stiff, he's going over. He falls, arm thrown forward still grasping for the bed, he doesn't even see the corner of the nightstand, he doesn't feel it really as he strikes his head against it.

He stares up at the ceiling, vision ringed with wavering grey, his breathing weirdly fast, out of his control. He can hear his blood surging, like too much liquid through the narrow neck of a bottle. There's no room left inside him, his chest must be about to crumple in with this pressure, he thinks of a can being crushed. 

He thinks of Kurt's face. He closes his eyes.

~~~

"Sir, you're going to have to try to stay calm, just lie back–"

Burt comes awake struggling. Something's on his face, covering his mouth, and his neck is immobile, wrapped up in something holding it stiff. Panicked, he's seized by the need to sit forward, to right himself.

"Sir, please–"

A woman. A nurse. He's on a gurney. It's an oxygen mask on his face, a brace round his neck. He thinks, _heart attack_. He thinks, _Please God, not now. I can't leave Kurt and the baby_.

Two women wearing teal nurse's scrubs, both holding his shoulders, struggling with him, he's strong as a bear for just a moment, he glimpses the scene past them, gets a swaying, tilted impression, people moving around a front desk, faces turning towards him staring, the chequered linoleum floor and plastic connected green chairs of a hospital waiting room. There's a tinny, unreal voice chiming over a speaker system.

He slumps back against the gurney, breathing hard, his eyes falling shut. He hears the nurse speaking to him but he's tired, overpoweringly so.

The gurney is moving. Lights overhead strobe pink through his eyelids, the noise of voices fading and returning like a volume switch being twisted back and forth. 

"Sir. Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?"

Burt opens his eyes blearily, closes them. He has the peculiar sensation of falling down into his body, recurring, stuck, falling into himself.

"What is your name?"

Burt blinks up at the man leaning over him. The gurney's stopped moving. The mask is gone from his face.

He grunts and coughs, clearing his throat.

"Burt," he rasps. The neck brace is making it awkward, digging under his jaw. "Hummel."

"You know where you are?"

"Hospital."

"That's right. Can you look here, Mister Hummel?" The guy flashes a torch in Burt's eye, first one and then the other. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"M'I havin a heart attack?"

"You are not."

Burt thinks for a moment. "Hit my head."

"That's right. You fell."

"My son." Burt grimaces. He remembers the rest suddenly, the empty house. The note. "Where's…my son?"

"You son's fine. He's right outside."

"He's…?"

"We're going to fix that cut on your head, Mister Hummel."

"My boy," Burt says, confused. He can't see, he can't really sit up, there's just the joker in the white coat looming over him and white walls all around him. "Kurt!" he shouts. His throat feels raw. He doesn't believe.

The doctor turns aside, and Burt tries to turn his head as well but it is awkward. Then his heart thrills – Kurt, Kurt, all at once over him, leaning in, grabbing for his hand in agitation. His eyes are huge and red with crying, gazing down into his father's face.

"I'm here," he says in a slightly wobbly voice. He's trying hard to hold together. "It wasn't your heart. You–you fainted, Dad. They said your heart's okay. So you're okay. They said you're okay." His thumbs rub the back of Burt's hand over and over.

"Kurt," Burt says. He finds his throat is choked. Kurt's face crumples immediately, contorting as he starts to cry and his whole body sags against the bed.

Burt looks over his to the doctor. "I want to talk to my son."

The man pulls his clipboard out from under his arm and nods. "I'll come back."

Kurt slumps against the edge of the bed as they're alone, wiping and wiping at his eyes, his round cheeks ruddy, his eyes swollen and red, he's been crying already.

"Oh, Dad," he gasps, his lips trembling, turning down, great hiccupping gasps bowing his shoulders. "I'm–I'm so–" His voice cracks high at the end. His huffs out a great breath almost like laughing, rocking a little where he sits.

Burt opens his arms as best he can and Kurt comes to him at once, falling into him, pressing his cheek into his chest.

"I did this," he moans.

"Shh." Burt breathes the smell of his son's hair, bliss, home, escape from the stink of disinfectant and piss, that stink of hospital air.

"I was so–I was–When I came back and f–found you, I was so scared– I w–wasn't really going to leave–I wasn't–I w–would never leave you–"

"I know. I know." Burt strokes the milk nape of his son's neck.

"I thought–you were–"

"I'm fine."

"Oh, God." Kurt presses himself to Burt as best he can, wanting to be closer. Burt can feel his belly, the baby.

"I knew you wouldn't go," he whispers.

Kurt doesn't want to draw back for a while, but finally he does, still hiccupping now and then, his hands moving restlessly over Burt's hands and up his arms.

He watches Burt, so full of love, frightened still, loving Burt with his eyes like he's still waiting for him to be taken away. Burt feels a profound sense of peace, even in this strange hospital room, this strange bed, even while his head is still ringing dully, as though with the low vibration of a bell struck some time before. He feels carefully at the bandage on his forehead. Kurt's large eyes follow everything hungrily, full of anguish, like he's trying to hold every detail. Burt stops touching the bandage and reaches to stroke Kurt's cheek instead.

"What happened?"

"I just…I'm so sorry," Kurt whispers. "I don't know what I was thinking of." His eyes dart away, his fingers grip and fidget on his knee. "I never thought that–I don't know what I would have done–"

"Look at me," Burt says, tipping Kurt's chin up. "I'm fine."

Kurt's face is wet again with tears. He gazes at Burt with such focus, such dread.

"Did you…my letter. Did you–read–?"

"No."

Kurt shuts his eyes and breathes out, his shoulders slump. "I thought–" he says, his voice nasal and cracked, "if that was the last thing that you–"

"No." Burt wipes at his tears. "Don't think about it."

"I didn't mean any of it. In–in the letter. I was just upset. You know that, right?" Kurt peers at him fearfully. "I love you so much."

"I know you do, angel."

"Can we…can we go home?"

"Soon."

Kurt takes Burt's hand and shuffles closer on the bed. He places Burt's hand over his warm stomach.

"We want to go home with you."

Burt feels his throat get achy again, his eyes start to sting.

"You got me goin now," he says. He strokes Kurt's belly through his soft jumper.

"We won't leave you again. Never."

"I know," Burt says, feeling the life under his hand. "You're a good boy."

 

(The End)


End file.
